IDEALS  IN 
GREEK  LITERATURE 

MLLIAM  CRANSTON  LAWTON 


CHAUTAUQUA 
HOME  READING  SERIES 


; 


: 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


75"o 
Class  .  L,  N  2,  5~ 


O     OS 

<;   B 

Q    t 

H     M 
<      Cd 

go 


Ideals  in  Greek 
Literature 


BY 

WILLIAM  CRANSTON  LAWTON 

OF  ADELPHl  COLLEGE 

AUTHOR  OF   "INTRODUCTION  TO  GREEK  LITERATURE," 
"ART    AND    HUMANITY    IN    HOMER,"   ETC. 


tC^lie  CJ^autauqua  l^ttsi^ 

CHAUTAUQUA,  N.  Y. 

MCMV 


REA0JR6  ROOM 

Copyright,  igoiP 

BT 

THE  POPULAR  EDUCATION  PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


DONNBIXBV  St  SONS  COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

Preface         -  -  -  -  -.  -       v 

General  Bibliography   -  -  -  -     vii 

I.    The  Older  Iliad: 

Comradeship    in     Strife.     Achilles    and    Patro- 
clus.     Sarpedon  and.GIaucus.  -  -        i 

II.    Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad: 

Family  Ties.    Hector  and  Andromache.    Priam's 
Grief  for  Hector.  -  -  -  -      17 

III.  The  Odyssey: 

Home  Love.     The  Return  of  Odysseus.  -      32 

IV.  Hesiod's  Works  and  Days: 

Rustic  Thrift.  -  -  -  -  -      43 

V.  Lyric  Poetry:    -     -     -     -     -   51 

VI.  ^schylus  and  the  Prometheus: 

The  Heroism  of  Endurance.  -  -  -      64 

VII.    Sophocles  and  the  Antigone: 

Human  Law  vs.  Divine  Ordinance.  -  -     102 

VIII.    Euripides  and  the  Alcestis: 

The  Glory  of  Self-Sacrifice.  -  -  -     139 

IX.    Aristophanes'  Clouds: 

Ridicule  as  a  Moral  Weapon.        -  -  -    173 

X.    Herodotus: 

The  Battle  of  Salamis.         -  -  -  -    203 

XI.    Thucydides: 

The  Periclean  Funeral  Oration,     •  -  -    212 


217935 


iv  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XII.    The  Platonic  Socrates: 

An  Apostle  of  Righteousness.        -  -  -     221 

XIII.  Demosthenes  on  the  Crown: 

An  Ideal  of  Civic  Patriotism.  .  -  .    237 

XIV.  Sicilian  Idylls  of  Theocritus: 

The  Poetry  of  Rustic  Life.  -  -  .    346 


PREFACE 

The  present  volume  undertakes  to  set  directly  before 
the  student  a  series  of  masterpieces  which,  ever  since 
their  creation,  have  appealed  powerfully  to  lovers  of  art 
and  truth.  When  interest  in  the  best  works  has  been 
aroused,  more  detailed  study  becomes  a  delight.  The 
materials  for  such  study  are  indicated  quite  copiously  in 
the  notes  at  the  close  of  each  chapter.  Meantime,  only 
what  has  seemed  absolutely  necessary  in  the  way  of 
general  introduction  and  elucidation  has  been  offered. 

In  the  classical  Greek  literature,  from  the  **IHad'*  to 
Moschos's  lament  for  Bion,  there  is  felt  a  certain  unity, 
for  in  it  is  reflected,  and  idealized,  the  life  of  one  remark- 
able people.  The  Greeks  had  already  taken  possession  of 
the  shores  and  islands  of  the  ^gean  sea  at  least  three 
thousand  years  ago.  This  excitable,  jealous,  often  cruel, 
but  wonderfully  gifted  type  of  man  appears  from  the  first 
fully  conscious  of  his  diversity  from  the  surrounding  **  bar- 
barians."  The  Hellenes  were  the  most  artistic  of  races; 
most  sensitive  to  harmony,  whether  in  form,  color,  music, 
or  action.  In  art-forms  they  are  the  teachers  of  all  later 
men.  The  Hebrew  has  led  the  world  toward  spiritual 
abstractions,  the  Roman  pointed  the  way  to  a  stable  civic 
organism,  but  in  joyous  unfolding  of  the  individual  sensu- 
ous life  no  man,  not  even  the  Florentine,  has  ever  rivalled 
the  fifth  century  Athenian,  the  typical  Greek. 

It  is  not  easy  for  us  to  understand  him.  Our  sense  of 
artistic  beauty  is  but  half-developed.    Our  sturdy,  reticent. 


VI  Preface 

practical  individualism  is  remote  from  his.  Yet  from  him 
can  best  be  learned  a  delightful  lesson,  the  fullest  enjoy- 
ment of  all  beauty  in  nature  or  art.  The  ethical  quality, 
the  moral  purpose,  is  not  always  prominent.  That  it  is 
usually  present,  nevertheless,  our  selections  should  demon- 
strate. 


GENERAL    BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  largest  survey  of  Greek  literature  in  English  is 
the  work,  in  four  volumes,  of  the  learned,  genial,  erratic, 
pugnacious  Professor  Mahaffy;  the  smallest,  but  one  of 
the  very  best  accounts  is  the  primer  of  Professor  Jebb. 
Neither  contains  much  citation  from  the  Greek  authors. 
The  series  of  small  volumes  published,  in  America,  by 
Lippincott,  called  '*  Ancient  Classics  for  EngUsh  Read- 
ers," treats  each  great  writer  singly  and  quite  fully,  with 
large  quotations.  J.  A.  Symonds'  ** Greek  Poets'*  is  too 
verbose,  but  very  suggestive,  and  contains  much  fine 
translation.  The  views  of  the  present  author  are  most 
fully  set  forth  in  his  **  Introduction  to  Classical  Greek 
Literature,"  Scribners,  1 903. 

For  thorough  further  study  two  of  the  first  requisites 
are  a  good  classical  atlas  like  Kiepert's,  and  a  poHtical 
history  of  Greece,  preferably  the  monumental  work  of 
Grote,  or  the  more  recent  and  somewhat  less  voluminous 
Holm,  in  German  original  or  English  translation.  For 
mythology  an  adequate  book  in  English  hke  Decharme's 
*'Mythologie  de  la  Grece  Antique"  is  sadly  needed.  Of 
the  many  school  manuals  based  on  Bulfinch's  antiquated 
**Age  of  Fable"  the  best  are  Gayley's  ^'Classical  Myths 
in  English  Literature"  and  Guerber's  "Myths  of  Greece 
and  Rome."  The  best  general  reference  book  is  prob- 
ably Harper's  **  Classical  Dictionary  of  Literature  and 
Antiquities."  All  these  should  be  contained  in  any 
respectable  city  library.     The  solitary  reader  will  usually 


viii  General  Bibliography 

find  them  too  expensive.  He  should  at  least  possess  one 
small  volume  of  political  Greek  history,  such  as  the  read- 
able manuals  of  Bury,  Oman,  and  Botsford,  the  last  of 
which  also  contains  sufficiently  good  maps.  The  history 
of  the  plastic  arts  illuminates  the  story  of  literature, 
and  happily  Professor  Tarbell's  excellent  little  book,  **A 
History  of  Greek  Art, ' '  will  be  in  the  hands  of  all  Chau- 
tauqua students. 

Most  essential,  however,  is  the  perusal  of  complete 
masterpieces  in  literary  EngHsh  versions.  These  will  be 
quite  copiously  catalogued  under  the  several  authors. 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  OLDER  ILIAD 

Comradeship  in  Strife.     Achilles  and  Patroclus.     Sarpedon 
and  Glaucus. 

The  ''Iliad, "  a  splendid  epic  poem  in  15,000  hex- 
ameter verses,  had  apparently  approached  essentially  its 
present  form  as  early  as  the  ninth  century  B.C.,  and 
exerted  a  dominant  influence  on  all  later  writers.  The 
poet  claims  to  be  inspired  by  the  Muses,  and  to  sing  of  a 
remote  foretime  quite  unlike  his  own  day.  The  greatest 
gods  mingle  freely  in  mortal  strife,  and  even  their  coun- 
cils, on  the  summit  of  snow-capt  Mount  Olympus,  are 
fully  reported.  The  human  heroes  are  often  half  divine 
in  parentage. 

Nearly  or  quite  the  whole  Greek  race  appears  in  the 
poem  as  united  under  the  empire  of  the  selfish  and  vacil- 
lating Agamemnon.  The  jealous  princes,  the  haughty 
nobility,  the  abject  folk,  all  obey  him.  In  the  struggle  to 
restore  his  sister-in-law,  Helen,  to  her  rightful  husband 
Menelaus,  all  the  clans  have  for  the  last  ten  years  been 
encamped  in  Asia,  on  the  Trojan  plain,  quite  ignorant  of 
whatever  has  befallen  in  their  homes.  The  utter  destruc- 
tion of  Troy,  involved  in  the  sin  of  the  wilful  young  Trojan 
prince,  Paris,  who  has  run  away  with  Helen,  is  often  fore- 
shadowed. 

The ''Iliad "  does  not  directly  describe  the  beginning 
nor  the  end  of  the  long  contest,  but  only  a  brief  episode 

I 


2  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

in  the  tenth  year  of  the  war.  The  hero  is  a  demi-god, 
Achilles.  His  mother,  the  sea-nymph  Thetis,  most  lovely 
of  goddesses,  though  beloved  by  Zeus  and  other  high 
gods,  was  wedded  to  a  mortal  because  her  son  was  fated 
to  be  mightier  than  his  sire.  During  the  war  he  has  been 
the  leader  in  a  score  of  forays,  supporting  and  enriching 
the  whole  camp  by  his  booty.  Yet  Agamemnon  wrests 
from  Achilles  by  violence  his  chief  prize,  the  lovely  prin- 
cess Briseis,  who  was  to  have  become  her  captor's  lawful 
wife  and  queen. 

Achilles  fiercely  refuses  to  fight  longer  for  a  chieftain 
who  commits  the  very  sin  he  had  led  forth  all  Greece  to 
avenge.  While  the  Greek  champion  sulks  in  his  cabin, 
prince  Hector  leads  the  Trojans  to  victory,  sets  fire  to  the 
fleet  on  the  shore,  and  threatens  the  Greeks  with  utter 
destruction. 

But  Achilles  has  one  gentler  side.  He  cannot  wholly 
resist  the  pleadings  of  his  best-beloved  comrade,  the 
tender-hearted  Patroclus.  Reluctantly  he  lends  his  armor 
to  his  friend,  bidding  him  not  to  pursue  the  Trojans  into 
the  open  plain.  Patroclus  rashly  disobeys,  and  is  eventu- 
ally slain  by  Hector.     Then  Achilles,  as  Dante  says, 

'* fought,  at  the  last,  for  love," 

and  ended  his  feud  with  Agamemnon  that  he  might  avenge 
his  friend  by  slaying  the  thrice-hated  Hector. 

With  Hector's  funeral,  the  poem,  even  in  its  present 
form,  abruptly  ends; 

"Thus  was  a  tomb  made  ready  for  Hector  the  tamer  of 
horses." 

But,  as  Mr.  Grote  has  remarked,  it  is  not  now  a  mere 
Achilleid,  as  we  should  expect  from  the  opening  line : 


The  Older  Iliad  3 

"Sing,  oh  goddess,  the  wrath  of  Achilles,   offspring  of 
Peleus.'* 

Rather,  by  insertion  of  manifold  episodes,  it  has  grown  to 
be  an  **Iiiad"  indeed:  a  picture  of  the  whole  war  about 
Ilios  or  Troy.  Most  scholars  agree  that  these  insertions 
have  been  made  by  various  hands,  probably  through  many 
decades.  But  the  character  and  fate  of  Patroclus  is  essen- 
tial to  the  main  action.  His  death  cuts  the  knot,  and 
must  have  been  part  of  the  original  scheme. 

Whether  the  events  of  the  *' Iliad"  had  any  realistic 
basis  can  never  be  known.  The  excavations  of  Dr.  Schhe- 
mann  and  others  have  revealed  ruins  of  a  strong  hill-fort 
in  the  Trojan  plain,  of  massive  palaces  or  castles  at 
Mycenae,  Agamemnon's  capital,  and  at  other  points  in 
Greece.  But  no  inscriptions  or  datable  records  are  found. 
The  folk  that  built  these  fortresses  were  as  little  known  to 
Pericles'  generation  as  to  us.  It  may  well  be  that  they 
were  not  Greeks  at  all.  We  naturally  associate  these 
builders  of  real  fortresses  with  the  Homeric  myth,  but  a 
myth  it  remains.  Superhuman  forces,  poetic  imagina- 
tion, are  its  very  warp  and  woof.  It  must  be  studied  as 
an  ideal  work  of  art. 

Yet  the  ** Iliad"  is  intensely  human.  Its  men  and 
women  are  more  real,  and  also  more  lovable,  than  its 
divinities.  To  Greek  minds,  friendship  between  men  was 
a  loftier  impulse  to  noble  deeds  than  love  between  man 
and  woman.  Of  that  famihar  tie,  Achilles  and  Patroclus 
formed  the  most  inspiring  example.  In  their  companion- 
ship, not  in  the  love  of  Achilles  for  Briseis,  much  less  the 
wedded  happiness  of  Hector  and  Andromache,  the  Greek 
poet,  and  his  hearers,  saw  the  chief  motive  of  the  epic. 
We  may  profitably,  then,  turn  aside  from  the  gory  and 


4  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

sometimes  wearisome  battle-scenes,  and  endeavor  to  make 
the  more  intimate  acquaintance  of  the  gentlest  and  most 
lovable  among  Homer's  heroes. 

Patroclus  is  forced  to  sit  idle  through  the  earlier  part 
of  the  action,  and  is  dead  long  before  the  end.  Yet  we 
get  more  than  one  illuminating  glimpse  of  his  kindly 
nature.  The  first  is  when  Achilles,  standing  in  unwel- 
come inaction  at  his  cabin  door  beside  the  Hellespont, 
thinks  he  sees  his  friend,  the  physician  Machaon,  carried 
off  the  field  wounded  by  the  venerable  Nestor,  and  sends 
Patroclus  to  make  inquiry.     So 

Before  the  gate  divine  Patroclus  stood: 
The  old  man  saw,  and  from  his  seat  arose. 
And  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  in, 
And  bade  him  sit;  but  he,  refusing,  said: 
*'No  seat  for  me,  thou  venerable  sire! 
I  must  not  stay,  for  he  both  awe  and  fear 
Commands,  who  hither  sent  me  to  enquire 
What  wounded  man  thou  hast.   I  need  not  ask, 
I  know  Machaon  well,  his  people's  guard. 
My  errand  done,  I  must  my  message  bear 
Back  to  Achilles,  and  thou  know'st  thyself. 
Thou  venerable  sire,  how  stern  his  mood: 
Nay  sometimes  blames  he  where  no  blame  is  due. " 

To  whom  Gerenian  Nestor  thus  replied: 
''Whence  comes  Achilles'  pity  for  the  Greeks 
By  Trojan  weapons  wounded?     Knows  he  not 
What  depth  of  suff'ring  through  the  camp  prevails? 
How  in  the  ships,  by  arrow  or  by  spear 
Sore  wounded,    all  our  best  and  bravest  lie? 
The  valiant  son  of  Tydeus,  Diomed, 
Pierced  by  a  shaft;  Ulysses  by  a  spear, 
And  Agamemnon's  self;  Eurypylus 
By  a  sharp  arrow  through  the  thigh  transfixed; 
And  here  another,  whom  I  now  but  bring. 


The  Older  Iliad  5 

Shot  by  a  bow,  from  off  the  battlefield. 
Achilles,  valiant  as  he  is,  the  while 
For  Grecian  woes  nor  care  nor  pity  feels. 
Waits  he,  until  our  ships  beside  the  sea. 
In  our  despite,  are  burnt  by  hostile  fires. 
And  we  be  singly  slain?" 

Nestor  reminds  Patroclus  of  the  injunctions  given  him 
when  he  and  Achilles  left  their  home. 

''Menoetius,  Actor's  son. 
To  thee  this  counsel  gave:  *My  son,'  he  said, 
'Achilles  is  by  birth  above  thee  far. 
Thou  art  in  years  the  elder;  he  in  strength 
Surpasses  thee;  do  thou  with  prudent  words 
And  timely  speech  address  him,  and  advise 
And  guide  him ;  he  will,  to  his  good,  obey. ' 
**Such  were  the  old  man's  words;  but  thou  hast  let 
His  counsel  slip  thy  mem'ry;  yet  ev'n  now 
Speak  to  Achilles  thus,  and  stir  his  soul, 
If  haply  he  will  hear  thee;  and  who  knows 
But  by  the  grace  of  Heav'n  thou  mayst  prevail? 
For  great  is  oft  a  friend's  persuasive  power. 
But  if  the  fear  of  evil  prophesied. 
Or  message  by  his  Goddess-mother  brought 
From  Jove,  restrain  him,  let  him  send  thee  forth 
With  all  his  force  of  warlike  Myrmidons,  ^ 
That  thou  may'st  be  the  saving  force  of  Greece. 
Then  let  him  bid  thee  to  the  battle  bear 
His  glitt'ring  arms,  if  so  the  men  of  Troy, 
Scar'd  by  his  likeness,  may  forsake  the  field. 
And  breathing-time  afford  the  sons  of  Greece, 
Toil-worn;  for  little  pause  has  yet  been  theirs. 
Fresh  and  unwearied,  ye  with  ease  may  drive 
To  their  own  city,  from  our  ships  and  tents. 
The  Trojans,  worn  and  battle- wearied  men." 

Thus  he;  Patroclus'  spirit  within  him  burn'd, 
And  tow'rd  Achilles'  tent  in  haste  he  sped, 
1  The  people  and  soldiery  of  Achilles. 


6  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Delayed  by  a  task  of  mercy,  binding  up  the  wounds  of 
another  Greek  chieftain,  Patroclus  reaches  Achilles's 
cabin  again  but  just  before  Hector's  greatest  triumph. 
The  Trojan  prince  has  actually  reached  the  Greek  ships, 
and  set  one  of  them  on  fire. 

Thus  round  the  well-mann'd  ship  they  wag'd  the  war: 
Meanwhile  by  Peleus'  son  Patroclus  stood. 
Weeping  hot  tears;  as  some  dark-water'd  fount 
Pours  o'er  a  craggy  rock  its  gloomy  stream; 
Achilles,  swift  of  foot,  with  pity  saw. 
And  to  his  friend  these  wingM  words  addressed: 
**Why  weeps  Patroclus,  like  an  infant  girl. 
That  prays  her  mother,  by  whose  side  she  runs, 
To  take  her  up,  and,  clinging  to  her  gown, 
Impedes  her  way,  and  still  with  tearful  eyes 
Looks  in  her  face,  until  she  take  her  up? 
Ev'n  as  that  girl,  Patroclus,  such  art  thou, 
Shedding  soft  tears.     Hast  thou  some  tidings  brought 
Touching  the  general  weal,  or  me  alone? 
Or  have  some  evil  news  from  Phthia  come, 
Known  but  to  thee?     Menoetius,  Actor's  son. 
Yet  surely  lives,  and  'mid  his  Myrmidons 
Lives  aged  Peleus,  son  of  ^acus: 
Their  deaths  indeed  might  well  demand  our  tears: 
Or  weep'st  thou  for  the  Greeks,  who  round  their  ships 
By  death  their  former  insolence  repay? 
Speak  out,  that  I  may  know  the  cause  of  grief." 
To  whom,  with  bitter  groans,  Patroclus  thus: 
'*0  son  of  Peleus,  noblest  of  the  Greeks, 
Achilles,  be  not  wroth!  such  weight  of  woe 
The  Grecian  camp  oppresses;  in  their  ships 
They  who  were  late  their  bravest  and  their  best. 
Sore  wounded  all  by  spear  or  arrow  lie ; 
For  these,  the  large  resources  of  their  art 
The  leeches  ply,  and  on  their  wounds  attend; 
While  thou,  Achilles,  still-  remain'st  unmov'd. 


The  Older  Iliad  7 

Oh,  be  it  never  mine  to  nurse  such  hate 

As  thou  retain' St,  inflexibly  severe! 

Who  e'er  may  hope  in  future  days  by  thee 

To  profit,  if  thou  now  forbear  to  save 

The  Greeks  from  shame  and  loss?     Unfeehng  man! 

Sure  Peleus,  horseman  brave,  was  ne'er  thy  sire. 

Nor  Thetis  bore  thee;  from  the  cold  grey  sea 

And  craggy  rocks  thou  hadst  thy  birth,  so  hard 

And  stubborn  is  thy  soul.     But  if  the  fear 

Of  evil  prophesied  thyself  restrain. 

Or  message  by  the  Goddess-mother  brought 

From  Jove,  yet  send  me  forth  with  all  thy  force 

Of  Myrmidons,  to  be  the  saving  light 

Of  Greece,  and  let  me  to  the  battle  bear 

Thy  glitt'ring  arms,  if  so  the  men  of  Troy, 

Scar'd  by  thy  Hkeness,  may  forsake  the  field. 

And  breathing-time  afford  the  sons  of  Greece, 

Toil-worn,"   .... 

****** 

Thus  pray'd  he,  all  unwisely,  for  the  pray'r 
He  utter 'd  to  himself  was  fraught  with  death. 
To  whom  much  griev'd,  Achilles  swift  of  foot: 

'*Heav'n-bom  Patroclus,  oh,  what  words  are  these! 
Prophetic  warnings  move  me  not,  though  known; 
Nor  message  hath  my  mother  brought  from  Jove; 
But  it  afflicts  my  soul,  when  one  I  see 
That  basely  robs  his  equal  of  his  prize. 
His  lawful  prize,  by  highest  valour  won; 
Such  grief  is  mine,  such  wrong  have  I  sustain'd. 
Her,  whom  the  sons  of  Greece  on  me  bestow'd 
Prize  of  my  spear,  the  well-walled  city  ^  storm'd, 
The  mighty  Agamemnon,  Atreus'  son. 
Hath  borne  by  force  away,  as  from  the  hands 
Of  some  dishonour'd,  houseless  vagabond. 
But  let  the  past  be  past;  I  never  meant 
My  wrath  should  have  no  end;  yet  had  not  thought 

1  Not,  of  course,  Troy  itself,  but  a  lesser  town.    Achilles  had  made  twenty- 
three  such  successful  forays,  by  land  or  sea. 


8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

My  anger  to  abate,  till  my  own  ships 

Should  hear  tlie  war-cry,  and  the  battle  bear. 

But  go,  and  in  my  well-known  armor  clad. 

Lead  forth  the  valiant  Myrmidons  to  war, 

Since  the  dark  crowd  of  Trojans  circles  round 

The  ships  in  force;  and  on  the  shingly  beach. 

Pent  up  in  narrow  limits,  lie  the  Greeks; 

And  all  the  city  hath  pour'd  its  numbers  forth 

In  hope  undoubting;  for  they  see  no  more 

My  helm  among  them  flashing;  else  in  flight 

Their  dead  would  choke  the  streams,  if  but  to  me 

Great  Agamemnon  bore  a  kindly  mind: 

But  round  the  camp  the  battle  now  is  wag'd 

Nathless  ^  do  thou,  Patroclus,  in  defence 

Fall  boldly  on,  lest  they  with  blazing  fire 

Our  ships  destroy,  and  hinder  our  retreat. 

But  hear,  and  ponder  well  the  end  of  all 

I  have  to  say,  and  so  for  me  obtain 

Honour  and  glory  in  the  eyes  of  Greece; 

And  that  the  beauteous  maiden  to  my  arms 

They  may  restore,  with  costly  gifts  to  boot. 

The  ships  relieved,  return  forthwith;  and  though 

The  Thund'rer,  Juno's  lord,  should  crown  thine  arms 

With  triumph,  be  not  rash,  apart  from  me. 

To  combat  with  the  warlike  sons  of  Troy; 

(So  should  my  name  in  less  repute  be  held;) 

Nor,  in  the  keen  excitement  of  the  flight. 

And  slaughter  of  the  Trojans,  lead  thy  troops 

On  tow'rd  the  city,  lest  thou  find  thyself 

By  some  one  of  th'  immortal  gods  oppos'd.'* 

We  need  not  think  Achilles  really  so  jealous  of  his 
friend's  fame.  Like  Hamlet  in  his  dying  words  to  Hora- 
tio, he  may  be  merely  choosing  the  strongest  appeal  to  a 
generous  nature. 

Patroclus,  after  many  gallant  exploits,  is  disarmed  by 

1  Nevertheless. 


The  Older  Iliad  9 

the  god  Phoebus  Apollo,  wounded  from  behind  by  a  cow- 
ardly foeman,  and  finally  falls  helpless  before  Hector's 
spear.     His  last  word  is  the  name  of  his  friend. 

*' Hector,  thou  boastest  loudly  now,  that  Jove, 

With  Phoebus  join'd,  hath  thee  with  vict'ry  crown'd: 

They  wrought  my  death  who  stripped  me  of  my  arms. 

Had  I  to  deal  with  twenty  such  as  thee. 

They  all  should  perish,  vanquish 'd  by  my  spear: 

Me  fate  hath  slain,  and  Phoebus,  and  of  men, 

Euphorbus;  thou  wast  but  the  third  to  strike. 

This  too  I  say,  and  bear  it  in  thy  mind; 

Not  long  shalt  thou  survive  me;  death  e'en  now 

And  final  doom  hangs  o'er  thee,  by  the  hand 

Of  great  Achilles,  Peleus'  matchless  son." 

When  the  evil  news  reaches  Achilles,  his  lovely  mother 
comes,  with  all  her  sister-nymphs,  from  the  sea-caves  to 
console  him. 

There  as  he  groan 'd  aloud,  beside  him  stood 
His  Goddess-mother;  she,  with  bitter  cry, 
Clasp'd  in  her  hands  his  head,  and  sorrowing  spoke: 
**Why  weeps  my  son?  and  what  his  cause  of  grief.? 
Speak  out,  and  naught  conceal;  for  all  thy  pray'r. 
Which  with  uplifted  hands  thou  mad'st  to  Jove, 
He  hath  fulfilled;  that,  flying  to  their  ships. 
The  routed  sons  of  Greece  should  feel  how  much 
They  need  thine  aid,  and  deep  disgrace  endure." 

To  whom  Achilles,  deeply  groaning,  thus: 
** Mother,  all  this  indeed  hath  Jove  fulfilled; 
Yet  what  avails  it,  since  my  dearest  friend 
Is  slain,  Patroclus?  whom  I  honoured  most 
Of  all  my  comrades,  lov'd  him  as  my  soul. 
Him  have  I  lost;  and  Hector  from  his  corpse 
Hath  stripp'd  those  arms,  those  weighty,  beauteous  arms, 
A  marvel  to  behold,  which  from  the  Gods 
Peleu?  received,  a  glorious  gift,  that  day 


lo  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

When  they  consigned  thee  to  a  mortal's  bed. 
How  better  were  it,  if  thy  lot  had  been 
Still  'mid  the  ocean  deities  to  dwell, 
And  Peleus  had  espoused  a  mortal  bride! 
For  now  is  bitter  grief  for  thee  in  store. 
Mourning  thy  son;  whom  to  his  home  return'd 
Thou  never  more  shalt  see;  nor  would  I  wish 
To  live,  and  move  among  my  fellow-men, 
Unless  that  Hector,  vanquish'd  by  my  spear. 
May  lose  his  forfeit  life,  and  pay  the  price 
Of  foul  dishonour  to  Patroclus  done." 

To  whom,  her  tears  o'erflowing,  Thetis  thus: 
*'E'en  as  thou  say'st,  my  son,  thy  term  is  short; 
Nor  long  shall  Hector's  fate  precede  thine  own." 

Achilles,  answ'ring,  spoke  in  passionate  grief: 
*' Would  I  might  die  this  hour,  who  fail'd  to  save 
My  comrade  slain!  far  from  his  native  land 
He  died,  sore  needing  my  protecting  arm." 

When  Briseis  is  sent  back  by  Agamemnon  to  her  im- 
perious lover,  we  get  a  new  and  unexpected  sidelight  on 
Patroclus 's  character. 

Briseis,  fair  as  golden  Venus,  saw 
Patroclus  lying,  pierc'd  with  mortal  wounds, 
Within  the  tent;  and  with  a  bitter  cry. 
She  flung  her  down  upon  the  corpse,  and  tore 
Her  breast,  her  delicate  neck,  and  beauteous  cheeks; 
And,  weeping,  thus  the  lovely  woman  wail'd: 
** Patroclus,  dearly  loved  of  this  sad  heart! 
When  last  I  left  this  tent,  I  left  thee  full 
Of  healthy  life;  returning  now,  I  find  • 

Only  thy  lifeless  corpse,  thou  prince  of  men! 
So  sorrow  still,  on  sorrow  heap'd,  I  bear. 
The  husband  of  my  youth,  to  whom  my  sire 
And  honour'd  mother  gave  me,  I  beheld 
Slain  with  the  sword  before  the  city  walls: 
Three  brothers,  whom  with  me  one  mother  bore, 


The  Older  Iliad  1 1 

My  dearly  lov'd  ones,  all  were  doomed  to  death: 

Nor  wouldst  thou,  when  Achilles  swift  of  foot 

My  husband  slew,  and  Mynes'  town 

In  ruin  laid,  allow  my  tears  to  flow; 

But  thou  wouldst  make  me  (such  was  still  thy  speech) 

The  wedded  wife  of  Peleus'  godlike  son: 

Thou  wouldst  to  Phthia  bear  me  in  thy  ship. 

And  there,  thyself,  amid  the  Myrmidons, 

Wouldst  give  my  marriage  feast.    Then,  unconsol'd, 

I  weep  thy  death,  my  ever-gentle  friend!" 

The  purely  martial  scenes  of  the  poem  culminate  in 
the  duel  between  the  two  greatest  champions,  which  is 
very  fully  described.  Here  again,  as  in  Patroclus'  un- 
doing, divine  trickery  accomplishes  more  than  human 
prowess.  Pallas  Athene's  resistless  aid  makes  the  Greek 
the  victor. 

Even  in  the  act  of  slaying  Hector,  Achilles  insists  that 
he  is  wreaking  vengeance  for  his  friend's  sake. 

**  Hector,  Patroclus  stripping  of  his  arms, 

Thy  hope  was  that  thyself  wast  safe;  and  I, 

Not  present,  brought  no  terror  to  thy  soul: 

Fool!  in  the  hollow  ships  I  yet  remained, 

I,  his  avenger,  mightier  far  than  he; 

I,  who  am  now  thy  conqu'ror.     By  the  dogs 

And  vultures  shall  thy  corpse  be  foully  torn. 

While  him  the  Greeks  with  fun'ral  rites  shall  grace." 

In  dreams  Achilles  and  his  dead  friend  are  reunited. 
In  the  long  agony  of  his  grief 

....  On  the  many-dashing  ocean's  shore 
PeHdes  lay,  amid  his  Myrmidons, 
With  bitter  groans.     In  a  clear  space  he  lay. 
Where  broke  the  waves,  continuous,  on  the  beach. 
There,  circumfus'd  about  him,  gentle  sleep, 


12  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Lulling  the  sorrows  of  his  heart  to  rest, 
O'er  came  his  senses;  for  the  hot  pursuit 
Of  Hector  round  the  breezy  heights  of  Troy 
His  active  limbs  had  wearied. 

As  he  slept, 
Sudden  appear 'd  Patroclus'  mournful  shade, 
His  very  self;  his  height  and  beauteous  eyes. 
And  voice;  the  very  garb  he  wont  to  wear. 
Above  his  head  it  stood,  and  thus  it  spoke: 

** Sleep' St  thou,  Achilles,  mindless  of  thy  friend. 
Neglecting,  not  the  living,  but  the  dead? 
Hasten  my  fun'ral  rites,  that  I  may  pass 
Through  Hades'  gloomy  gates.     Ere  these  be  done. 
The  spirits  and  spectres  of  departed  men 
Drive  me  far  from  them,  nor  allow  to  cross 
Th'  abhorred  river;  but  forlorn  and  sad 
I  wander  through  the  widespread  realms  of  night. 
And  give  me  now  thy  hand,  whereon  to  weep; 
For  never  more,  when  laid  upon  the  pyre. 
Shall  I  return  from  Hades;  never  more. 
Apart  from  all  our  comrades,  shall  we  two, 
As  friends,  sweet  counsel  take;  for  me,  stern  Death, 
The  common  lot  of  men,  has  op'd  his  mouth; 
Thou  too,  Achilles,  rival  of  the  Gods, 
Art  destin'd  here  beneath  the  walls  of  Troy 
To  meet  thy  doom;  yet  one  thing  must  I  add, 
And  make,  if  thou  wilt  grant  it,  one  request. 
Let  not  my  bones  be  laid  apart  from  thine, 
Achilles,  but  together,  as  our  youth 
Was  spent  together  in  thy  father's  house. 
Since  first  my  sire  Menoetius  me  a  boy 
From  Opus  brought,  a  luckless  homicide. 
Who  of  Amphidamas,  by  evil  chance. 
Had  slain  the  son,  disputing  o'er  the  dice: 
Me  noble  Peleus  in  his  house  receiv'd. 
And  kindly  nurs'd,  and  thine  attendant  made. 
So  in  one  urn  be  now  our  bones  enclos'd. 
The  golden  vase,  thy  Goddess- mother's  gift," 


The  Older  Iliad  13 

Whom  answer'd  thus  Achilles,  swift  of  foot: 
**Why  art  thou  here,  lov'd  being?     Why  on  me 
These  sev'ral  charges  lay?     Whate'er  thou  bidd'st 
Will  I  perform,  and  all  thy  mind  fulfill; 
But  draw  thou  near,  and  in  one  short  embrace. 
Let  us,  while  yet  we  may,  our  grief  indulge." 

Thus  as  he  spoke,  he  spread  his  longing  arms. 
But  nought  he  clasped,  and  with  a  waihng  cry. 
Vanish 'd,  like  smoke,  the  spirit  beneath  the  earth. 
Up  sprang  Achilles,  all  amaz'd,  and  smote 
His  hands  together,  and  lamenting  cried: 
**0  Heav'n,  there  are  then,  in  the  realms  below, 
Spirits  and  spectres,  unsubstantial  all; 
For  all  night  long  Patroclus'  shade  hath  stood. 
Weeping  and  wailing,  at  my  side,  and  told 
His  bidding;  th'  image  of  himself  it  seem'd." 

With  no  companion  save  the  roaring  wind  gods  Achilles 
watches  all  night  beside  the  pyre. 

....  They  all  night  long 

With  current  brisk  together  fann'd  the  fire. 

All  night  Achilles  with  a  double  cup 

Drew  from  a  golden  bowl  the  ruddy  wine. 

Wherewith,  outpour'd,  he  moisten'd  all  the  earth, 

Still  calling  on  his  lost  Patroclus'  shade. 

As  mourns  a  father  o'er  a  youthful  son. 

Whose  early  death  has  wrung  his  parents'  hearts; 

So  mourned  Achilles  o'er  his  friend's  remains. 

Prostrate  beside  the  pyre,  and  groan 'd  aloud. 

But  when  the  star  of  Lucifer  appear'd. 

The  harbinger  of  light,  whom  following  close 

Spreads  o'er  the  sea  the  saffron-robed  mom, 

Then  pal'd  the  smould'ring  fire,  and  sank  the  flame; 

And  o'er  the  Thracian  sea,  that  groan'd  and  heav'd 

Beneath  their  passage,  home  the  Winds  return'd; 

And  weary,  from  the  pyre  a  space  withdrawn, 

Achilles  lay,  o'ercome  by  gentle  sleep. 


14  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

The  memorial  mound  is  to  be  built  for  both  friends. 
Achilles  gives  the  command: 

**  These  ashes  in  a  golden  urn  shall  He 

Till  I  myself  shall  in  the  tomb  be  laid; 

And  o'er  them  build  a  mound,  not  over  large, 

But  of  proportions  meet;  in  days  to  come. 

Ye  Greeks,  who  after  me  shall  here  remain, 

Complete  the  work,  and  build  it  broad  and  high." 

It  is  fitting  to  set  beside  this  pair  of  friends  the  noble 
kinsmen  Glaucus  and  Sarpedon,  who  came  from  far  off 
Lycia  to  aid  King  Priam,  the  unhappy  father  of  Paris  and 
of  Hector.  The  passage  here  offered  is  generally  regarded 
as  peculiarly  suited  to  the  genius  of  Pope,  whose  sonorous 
version  may  be  cited.  Sarpedon,  who  is  a  son  of  Zeus, 
the  supreme  god,  by  a  mortal  mother,  addresses  his  merely 
human  cousin  as  they  prepare  to  enter  the  fray  together. 

**Why  boast  we,  Glaucus,  our  extended  reign, 
Where  Xanthus'  streams  enrich  the  Lycian  plain, 
Our  numerous  herds  that  range  the  fruitful  field. 
And  hills  where  vines  their  purple  harvest  yield. 
Our  foaming  bowls  with  purer  nectar  crown'd, 
•    Our  hearts  entranced  with  music's  sprightly  sound? 
Why  on  these  shores  are  we  with  joy  survey'd, 
Admired  as  heroes  and  as  gods  obey'd, 
Unless  great  acts  superior  merit  prove, 
And  vindicate  the  bounteous  powers  above? 
'Tis  ours  the  dignity  they  give  to  grace; 
The  first  in  valor  as  the  first  in  place; 
That,  when  with  wandering  eyes  our  martial  bands 
Behold  our  deeds  transcending  our  commands, 
'Such',  they  may  cry,  'deserve  the  sovereign  state, 
Whom  those  that  envy  dare  not  imitate!' 
Could  all  our  care  elude  the  gloomy  grave. 
Which  claims  no  less  the  fearful  and  the  brave, 


The  Older  Iliad  15 

For  lust  of  fame  I  should  not  vainly  dare 
In  fighting  fields,  nor  urge  thy  soul  to  war. 
But  since,  alas!  ignoble  age  must  come, 
Disease,  and  death's  inexorable  doom. 
The  life,  which  others  pay,  let  us  bestow. 
And  give  to  fame  what  we  to  honor  owe; 
Brave  though  we  fall,  and  honor'd  if  we  live, 
Or  let  us  glory  gain  or  glory  give ! " 

Outward  conditions  of  life  change  ceaselessly;  but 
such  comradeship  as  this,  such  a  noble  sense  of  the  duty 
that  is  imposed  by  lofty  rank,  even  the  rather  grim  fatal- 
ism of  the  latter  lines,  will  always  make  strong  appeal  to 
men,  and  above  all  to  the  gallant  patriotic  soldier. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  famous  Elizabethan  translation  of  Homer  by  John  Chap- 
man, despite  Keats'  glorification  of  it  in  his  sonnet:  "On  First 
Looking  into  Chapman's  Homer,"  is  very  hard  reading,  full  of 
quaint  "conceits,"  and  often  most  un-Homeric.  Pope's  reso- 
nance, clear  syntax,  and  rapid  movement,  are  all  most  fitting,  but 
he  also  introduces  in  numberless  details  the  manners  and  tastes 
of  his  own  day,  and  he  probably  could  not  read  the  Greek  at  all, 
depending  chiefly  on  incompetent  French  translators.  It  is  the 
largest  example  in  English  of  clear  forceful  writing  by  a  perfect 
master  of  the  heroic  couplet,  but  as  the  great  scholar  Bentley  said 
to  Pope,  "You  mustn't  call  it  Homer." 

The  most  popular  recent  rhythmical  versions  are  doubtless 
Lord  Derby's  and  William  Cullen  Bryant's,  both  in  blank  verse, 
or  ten-syllable  unrhymed  lines.  The  former  has  been  freely 
quoted  in  this  chapter,  the  latter  in  the  "Odyssey."  Both  trans- 
lators use  the  Roman  names  for  gods  instead  of  the  Greek,  calling 
the  king  of  heaven  and  his  wife  Jupiter,  or  Jove,  and  Juno,  not 
Zeus  and  Hera,  the  war  god  Mars,  not  Ares,  the  goddess  of  love 
Venus  instead  of  Aphrodite.  Even  the  patroness  of  Odysseus  is 
oftener  named  Minerva  than  Pallas  Athene.     A  more  serious  fault 


1 6  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

is  the  slow  effect  inherent  in  the  rhythm.  A  certain  pedantic 
stiffness  in  the  British,  a  refined  gentleness  in  the  American  trans- 
later  might  be  mentioned.  Both  are  good  and  essentially  faithful 
versions,  Bryant's  the  more  enjoyable.  Other  spirited  verse- 
translations  have  been  published  by  Way,  Blackie,  Worsley  and 
Conington,  and  many  others. 

The  exact  statements  of  Homer  are  well  rendered  in  some- 
what archaic  English  prose,  by  the  three  English  scholars  Lang, 
Leaf,  and  Myers,  collaborating  on  the  Macmillan  translation. 
For  the  discoveries  by  excavation  at  Troy,  Mycenae,  etc.,  the 
English  reader  should  refer  to  Tsountas'  and  Manatt's  "Mycenean 
Age,"  rather  than  to  Dr.  Schliemann's  own  stately  volumes. 

The  unity  of  authorship  in  the  "Iliad"  is  best  defended  by 
Andrew  Lang,  in  "Homer  and  the  Epic."  He  does  not  fully 
meet  the  assaults  of  his  friend  Leaf,  who  in  his  "Companion  to 
the  Iliad"  assigns  the  parts  of  the  poem  in  detail  to  several  suc- 
cessive composers  and  interpolators. 


CHAPTER   II 

LATER  ADDITIONS  TO  THE  ILIAD 

Family  Ties.    Hector  and  Andromache.    Priam's  Griej 
jar  Hector. 

In  the  **  Iliad"  the  Greeks  come  to  Asia  Minor  as  to 
an  alien  land.  The  Asiatic  peoples  are  arrayed  as  allies 
or  vassals  on  Priam's  side.  But  still,  most  of  the  seven 
or  more  towns  that  claimed  each  to  be  the  place  of 
Homer's  birth,  Smyrna,  Chios,  etc.,  are  old  Greek  cities 
on  the  Eastern  side  of  the  ^gean.  These  cities  may 
really  all  have  been  early  colonies  from  Greece  proper. 
If,  as  is  widely  believed,  these  Eastward  pilgrims  brought 
the  older  portions  of  the  ''Iliad"  with  them,  it  is  natural 
that  some  of  the  latest  additions  to  the  poem,  as  we  now 
read  it,  should  have  been  made  in  the  new  home,  and 
should  delineate  with  fullest  sympathy  the  Asiatic  heroes, 
even  though  they  had  fought  on  the  wrong  side  in  the 
mythic  war  about  Troy ;  even  though,  like  Evangeline  and 
Hiawatha,  they  were  of  races  alien  and  hostile  to  their 
poet's  own  people.  These  portions  seem  to  show  more 
refinement,  and  gentler  feeling,  than  the  older  parts  of 
the  epic.  Among  them  is  the  passage  last  cited, — with 
others  in  which  both  Glaucus  and  Sarpedon  are  given 
marked  honor, — and,  especially,  the  two  great  scenes 
which  are  perhaps  better  known  than  any  others:  the 
parting  of  Hector  and  his  wife  Andromache  before  his 
last  great  exploits,  and  the  final  appearance  of  old  king 

17 


1 8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Priam  in  the  cabin  of  his  deadliest  foe  Achilles,  whither 
he  has  gone  by  night  to  beg  the  privilege  of  ransoming 
the  body  of  his  bravest  son. 

For  the  former  extract  an  attempt  may  be  made  to 
imitate,  in  our  own  harsher,  more  consonantal  speech,  the 
hexameter  rhythm  of  the  Greek  poem. 

PARTING  OF  HECTOR  AND  ANDROMACHE 

So  thro'  the  city  he  passed,  and  came  to  the  Scaean  gate- 
way. 

Where  he  intended  forth  to  the  plain  and  the  battle  to 
sally. 

There  did  his  bounteous  wife,  Andromache,  running  to 
meet  him 

Come, — Andromache,  child  of  Eetion,  fearless  in  spirit. 

He,  Eetion,  dwelt  at  the  foot  of  deep- wooded  Plakos; 

Ruling  Cilician  folk  in  Thebe  under  the  mountain. 

She  was  his  daughter,  and  wife  unto  brazen-helmeted  * 
Hector. 

So  she  came  and  met  him,  and  with  her  followed  the  ser- 
vant. 

Clasping  the  innocent  boy  to  her  bosom — yet  but  an 
infant. 

Hector's  well-loved  child,  and  brightly  he  shone  as  a  star 
shines. 

Hector  Scamandrius  called  him,  the  others  Astyanax 
named  him. 

Prince  of  the  city — for  Hector  alone  was  Ilios'  bulwark. 

Hector  is  too  modest  to  call  his  child  Lord  of  the 
Town,  and  names  him  instead  Child  of  the  River,  Scam- 
ander,  the  chief  stream  of  the  Trojan  plain.  Some 
commentators  have  cut  out  these  lines  as  unpoetical. 

^  These  "permanent"  epithets  often  became  almost  like  names.  Often, 
too,  they  are  amusingly  unsuited  to  the  particular  incident  bein^  described. 
We  saw  "swift-footed"  Achillesfstanding  idle.  So  Helen  is  "trailing-robed" 
even  when  hurrying  thro'  the  dusty  streets.  Juno  is  "golden-throned,"  when 
she  goes  sleepy  to  Bed ! 


Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad  19 

Smiling  the  father  stood,  as  he  looked  at  his  son,  and  in 

silence 
Close  to  his  side,   with  a  tear  in  her  eye,   Andromache 

pressing 
Clung  to  her  husband's  hand,  and  thus  she  spoke  and 

addressed  him: 
''Ah  me,  surely  your  prowess  will  slay  you!     Nor  will 

you  have  pity, 
Not  for  your  helpless  child,  nor  yet  for  myself  the  ill-fated. 
Soon  I  of  you  shall  be  robbed.     Ere  long  the  Achseans 

will  slay  you. 
All  of  them  rushing  upon  you !     And  truly,  for  me  it  were 

better. 
When  I  of  you  am  bereft,  to  go  down  to  the  grave.      Nor 

hereafter 
May  consolation  be  mine,  when  once  your  doom  is  accom- 
plished, 
Only  laments!     No  father  have  I,  nor  reverend  mother. 
Well  do  you  know  how  Achilles  the  godlike  murdered  my 

,    father. 
When  he  had  sacked  our  city,   that  well-built  town  of 

Cilicians, 
Thebe  with  lofty  gates;  and  Eetion  also  he  murdered, 
Though  he  despoiled  him  not,  since  that  he  dreaded  in 

spirit. 
There  did  the  victor  burn  his  body,  in  beautiful  armor. 
He,  too,  heaped  up  a  mound,  and  the  elms  are  growing 

about  it 
Set  by  the  Oreads,  sprung  from  Zeus,  who  is  lord  of  the 

3egis. 
Seven  my  brethren  were,  who  together  abode  in  the  palace. 
All  on  a  single  day  passed  down  to  the  dwelling  of  Hades, 
Each  of  them  slain  by  the  sword  of  the  fleet-footed,  god- 

Hke  Achilles, — 
They,  and  the  white-fleeced  sheep,  and  the  herds  of  the 

slow-paced  oxen. 
Lastly,   my  mother,  who   ruled  as  a  queen  under  deep- 
wooded  Plakos: — 


Q.O  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Though  he  had  led  her  hither,  along  with  the  rest  of  the 

booty, 
Yet  he  released  her  again,  and  accepted  a  glorious  ransom. 
Then,  in  the  hall  of  her  father,  the  huntress  Artemis  slew 

her.^ 
Hector,  so   you    are   to   me   both   father   and   reverend 

mother; 
You  are  my  brother  as  well,  and  you  are  my  glorious 

husband. 
Pray  have  pity  upon  me,  and  tarry  you  here  on  the  ram- 
part, 
Lest  you  may  leave  as  an  orphan  your  boy,  and  your  wife 

as  a  widow. 
Order  your  people  to  stand  by  the  fig-tree,  since  upon 

that  side 
Easier  gained  is  the  wall,  and  exposed  to  assault  is  the 

city." 
Then  unto  her  made  answer  the  great  bright-helmeted 

Hector: 
"Surely  for  all  these  things,  my  wife,  am  I  troubled,  but 

greatly 
Shamed  were  I  before  Trojans,  and  long-robed  Trojan 

Matrons, 
If  like  a  coward  I  lingered,  afar  from  the  war  and  the 

battle. 
Nor  has  my  heart  so  bade  me,  because  I  have  learned  to 

be  always 
Valiant  and  ready  to  fight  in  the  foremost  line  of  our 

people. 
Striving  to  win  high  fame,  for  myself  and  for  Priam  my 

father. 
This,  too,  well  do  I  know:  in  my  heart  and  my  soul  it 

abideth : 
Surely  a  day  shall  come  when  the  sacred  city  shall  perish, 
Priam  himself,  and  the  folk  of  Priam  the  valorous  spear- 
man. 
Yet  far  less  do  I  grieve  for  the  Trojans'  sorrows  hereafter, 

iThat  is,  she  died  a  sudden  and  painless  death. 


Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad  21 

Even   the   woes   of   Hecabe's   self,    and   of    Priam   the 

monarch, 
Or  for  the  fate  of  my  brethren,  though  many  shall  perish 

undaunted, 
FaUing  prone  in  the  dust  by  the  hands  of  the  merciless 

foemen, — 
Less  do  I  grieve  for  all  this  than  for  you,  when  a  warrior 

Achaean 
Leads  you  lamenting  away,  for  the  day  of  your  freedom 

is  ended. 
Then  as  another's  slave  at  the  loom  you  will  labor  in 

Argos, 
Or  from  the  spring  Hypereia  draw  water,  or  else  from 

Messeis,^ 
Oft  in  reluctance,  because  compulsion  is  heavy  upon  you. 
Then,  as  you  weep,  perchance  'twill  be  said  by  one  who 

shall  see  you, 
'Yon  is  Hector's  wife,  who  still  among  knightly  Trojans 
Bravest  proved  in  the  fray,  when  Troy  was  with  battle 

encircled.' 
So  some  day  will  they  speak,  and  again  will  the  pain  be 

repeated. 
Since,  of  so  faithful  a  husband  bereft,  you  will  suffer  in 

bondage. 
Verily  dead  may  I  be,  and  the  earth  heaped  heavy  upon 

me. 
Ere  I  may  hear  thy  cry,  or  behold  thee  dragged  by  the 

foemen." 
Speaking  thus,  for  his  son  reached  out  the  illustrious 

Hector; 
Yet  he  backward  recoiled  on  the  breast  of  the  faithful 

attendant, 
Crying  aloud  in  his  fright  at  the  sight  of  his  father  beloved. 
'Twas  by  the  brazen  mail  and  the  horsehair  plume  he  was 

frightened, 
Seeing  it  nodding  so  fiercely,  adown  from  the  crest  of  his 

helmet. 

iThe  Greek  poet,  adding  the  loving  touch  of  local  color,  forgets  that  Tro- 
jan Hector  would  never  have  heard  of  Pharpar  and  Abama. 


22  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Then  out  laughed  the  affectionate  father  and  reverend 

mother. 
Presently  now  the  illustrious  Hector  lifted  his  helmet 
Off  from  his  head;  on  the  ground  he  laid  it  resplendently 

gleaming. 
When  he  had  tossed  in  his  arms  his  well-loved  son,  and 

caressed  him, 
Then  unto  Zeus  and  the  other  immortals  he  made  his 

petition : 
''Zeus,  and  ye  other  immortals,  I  pray  you  that  even  as  I 

am 
So  this  boy  may  become  preeminent  over  the  Trojans, 
Mighty  and  fearless  as  I,  and  in  Ihos  rule  by  his  prowess! 
May  it  hereafter  be  said,  'He  is  better  by  far  than  his 

father:' 

(It  is  a  verse  any  man  might  write  in  golden  letters  on 
the  wall  of  the  chamber  where  lies  his  first-born  son:  but 
we  cannot  break  off  here,  though  the  following  lines  are 
an  unwelcome  reminder  that  Hector,  like  Achilles,  is  a 
"splendid  savage"  after  all!) 

— When  he  returns  from  the  fray,  with  the  bloodstained 

armour  of  heroes, 
When  he  has  smitten  the  foe,  and  gladdened  the  heart  of 

his  mother." 
So  did  he  speak;  and  into  the  arms  of  his  wife,  the 

beloved. 
Laid  he  the  boy,  and  she  in  her  fragrant  bosom  received 

him. 
Laughing  with  tears  in  her  eyes.     Her  husband  was  moved 

as  he  saw  her: 
"Dear  one,  be  not  for  me   so  exceedingly  troubled  in 

spirit. 
No  one  against  Fate's  will  shall  send  me  untimely  to  Hades. 
None  among  mortal  men  his  destiny  ever  evadeth, — 
Neither  the  coward  nor  hero,  when  once  his  doom  is 

appointed. 


Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad  23 

Pray  you,  go  to  your  home,  and  there  give  heed  to  your 
duties; 

Tasks  of  the  loom  and  the  spindle,  and  lay  your  commands 
on  the  servants. 

So  they  may  work  your  will.     Let  men  take  thought  for 
the  combat, 

All — I  most  of  them  all — whoso  are  in  Ilios  native." 
So  having  spoken,  illustrious  Hector  took  up  the  helmet, 

Horsehair-crested.     The    faithful    wife    had    homeward 
departed, 

Turning  ever  about,  and  fast  were  her  tears  down  drop- 
ping. 

Presently  now  to  her  palace  she  came,  that  so  fairly  was 
builded. 

Home  of  Hector,  destroyer  of  heroes:  many  a  servant 

Found   she   within,    and   among   them   all    she    aroused 
lamentation. 

They  in  his  home  over  Hector  lamented,  while  yet  he  was 
living. 

Since  they  believed  he  would  come  no  more  from  the 
battle  returning. 

Nor  would  escape  from  the  hands  and  might  of  the  val- 
iant Achaeans. 

The  funeral  rites  of  Patroclus  fill  Book  XXHI.  of  the 
*'Iliad."  Hector's  body  still  lies,  insulted  and  mangled, 
by  his  slayer's  cabin,  while  day  after  day  passes.  In  the 
next  and  last  book  Hermes,  the  kindly  messenger-god,  has 
guided  and  protected  Priam  on  his  way,  with  costly  ran- 
som, to  the  hostile  camp,  but  leaves  him,  at  the  threshold 
of  Achilles,  late  in  the  night. 

Achilles  was  just  ceasing  from  his  meal, 
From  drink  and  food.     The  table  stood  by  him. 
Great  Priam  entered  in  unmarked  by  them 
And  close  beside  Achilles  took  his  place. 
Clasped  with  both  hands  his  knees,  and  kissed 


24  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Those  awful  murderous  hands,  which  had  destroyed 
.  His  many  sons. 

As  when  a  mighty  curse 
Befalleth  one  who  in  his  fatherland 
Hath  slain  a  man,  and  to  another  folk 
He  comes,  unto  some  wealthy  man's  abode. 
And  wonder  seizes  those  who  look  on  him. 
So  did  Achilles  marvel,  as  he  saw 
The  godlike  Priam:  and  the  others  too 
In  their  amazement  gazed  at  one  another. 

Then  Priam  prayerfully  addressed  him  thus: 
''Remember,  O  Achilles  like  the  gods. 
Thy  father,  even  of  such  years  as  I, 
Upon  the  fatal  threshold  of  old  age. 
Perchance  the  neighbors  vex  him  round  about, 
And  there  is  no  one  to  avert  from  him 
Calamity  and  ruin.     But  yet  he. 
Hearing  thou  art  alive,  exults  in  heart, 
And  all  his  days  is  hopeful  he  shall  see 
His  well-loved  son  returning  home  from  Troy. 
But  wholly  evil  is  my  fate,  who  had 
The  noblest  sons  in  wide  Troy-land,  and  none 
Of  them,  I  tell  thee,  now  is  left  alive. 
Fifty  I  had  when  the  Achaeans  came: 
Nineteen  were  from  one  womb  bom  unto  me, 
The  others  of  the  women  in  my  halls. 
Of  most,  impetuous  Ares^  brake  the  knees. 
Him  who  alone  remained,  and  kept  my  town 
And  people,  thou  the  other  day  hast  slain. 
While  he  was  fighting  for  his  fatherland: 
Hector.     For  his  sake  to  th'  Achaeans'  ships 
I  came,  to  buy  him  back  from  thee,  and  bring 
A  priceless  ranson.     But  do  thou  revere 
The  gods,  Achilles,  and  have  pity  on  me. 
Remembering  thine  own  father.     Yet  am  I 
More  piteous,  and  have  borne  what  no  one  else 
Of  men  on  earth  has  done — to  lift  the  hand 

1  The  war  god,  meaning  here  war  itsell. 


Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad  25 

Of  him  who  slew  my  sons  unto  my  lips." 

So  spoke  he;  and  he  roused  indeed  in  him 
Desire  of  weeping  for  his  father.     Then 
Grasping  him  by  the  hand,  he  gently  pushed 
The  old  man  from  him;  and  they  both  bewailed 
Unceasingly:  the  one  remembering 
Hector,  the  slayer  of  men,  the  while  he  lay 
Before  Achilles'  feet;  but  for  his  sire 
Achilles  wept,  and  for  Patroclus  too 
At  times;  and  in  the  house  their  moan  went  up. 

But  when  divine  Achilles  had  his  fill 
Of  weeping,  straightway  from  the  chair  he  rose, 
And  lifted  by  the  hand  the  aged  man. 
Pitying  his  hoary  head  and  hoary  beard. 
Addressing  him  he  uttered  winged  words: 
**Ah,  wretched  one,  thou  hast  indeed  endured 
Full  many  woes  in  heart.     How  didst  thou  dare 
To  come  to  the  Achaeans'  ships,  alone, 
Into  my  presence, — mine,  who  have  despoiled 
Thy  many  noble  sons?     Thy  soul  is  hard 
As  iron.     But,  come,  sit  upon  a  chair. 
And  truly  we  will  let  our  sorrows  lie 
Quiet  within  our  hearts,  grieved  though  we  be; 
For  in  chill  mourning  there  is  no  avail. 
Since  so  the  gods  have  spun  for  wretched  men, 
To  live  in  sorrow.     They  are  free  from  care ! 
For  at  the  door  of  Zeus  two  jars  are  set, 
One  filled  with  evil  gifts,  and  one  again 
With  blessings;  and  to  whomsoever  Zeus, 
Hurler  of  lightning,  intermingling  gives. 
He  chances  now  on  evil,  now  on  good; 
While  him  to  whom  he  gives  but  ills  he  makes 
A  byword!     Wretched  famine  urges  him 
Over  the  holy  earth.     He  wanders  forth, 
Unhonoured  of  the  gods  or  mortal  men.* 

So  the  gods  gave  to  Peleus  glorious  gifts 
At  birth,  for  he  to  all  mankind  was  famed 

1  From  the  jar  of  blessings,  alone,  no  man's  portion  is  dipped,  it  appears. 


26  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

For  bliss  and  wealth,  and  ruled  the  Myrmidons. 
A  goddess,  too,  they  made  his  wife,  though  he 
Was  mortal.     Yet  the  God  sent  woe  on  him; 
For  in  his  halls  no  race  of  mortal  sons 
Arose;  one  all-untimely  son  had  he, 
And  I  protect  him  not  as  he  grows  old: 
Since  far  from  home  I  tarry  in  the  Troad, 
Vexing  thee,  and  thy  children.     And  of  thee 
'Tis  said,  old  sir,  that  thou  wert  happy  once. 
Of  all  the  land  which  Lesbos,  Makar's  home, 
Doth  bound,  and  Phrygia,  and  vast  Hellespont, 
Of  all  these  folk,  'tis  said,  thou  wert  supreme, 
O  aged  man,  in  tale  of  wealth  and  sons. 
But  since  the  Heaven-dwellers  on  thee  sent 
This  sorrow,  ever  round  thy  town  is  strife 
And  slaying  of  men. 

Endure,  and  do  not  grieve 
Unceasingly  in  spirit.     Naught  by  grief 
Wilt  thou  accomplish  for  thy  gallant  son; 
Thou  mayst  not  raise  him  up  to  life  again; 
Nay,  sooner  wilt  thou  suffer  other  ills." 

Then  aged  godlike  Priam  answered  him: 
**Bid  me  not  yet  to  sit  upon  a  chair. 
Thou  child  of  Zeus,  while  Hector  in  thy  house 
Uncared-for  lies.     But  give  him  up  at  once, 
That  I  may  see  him; — and  accept  the  price." 

Then  swift  Achilles  with  fierce  glance  replied: 
** Chafe  me  no  more,  old  sir;  I  do  myself 
Intend  to  give  thee  Hector  back.     From  Zeus 
As  messenger  to  me  my  mother  came; 
The  daughter  of  the  Ancient  of  the  Sea. 
And  as  for  thee,  O  Priam,  well  I  know 
In  heart,  and  it  escapes  me  not,  some  god 
Guided  thee  to  the  Achaeans'  speedy  ships; 
For  never  mortal  man  would  dare  to  come. 
Though  youthful,  to  our  camp,  nor  could  he  elude 
The  guards,  nor  easily  push  back  the  bolts 
Upon  our  gates.     So  do  thou  rouse  no  more, 


Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad  27 

O  aged  man,  mine  anger  in  my  grief, 

Lest  I  may  leave  thee  not  unharmed,  even  here 

Within  my  cabin,  suppliant  as  thou  art. 

But  may  transgress  against  the  will  of  Zeus." 

He  spoke;  the  aged  man  in  fear  obeyed. 
PeHdes  like  a  lion  through  the  house 
Rushed  to  the  portal;  not  alone:  with  him 
Two  servants  went,  heroic  Automedon 
And  Alkimos,  whom  of  his  comrades  most 
Achilles  honoured,  save  Patroclus  dead. 
They  from  the  yoke  released  the  steeds  and  mules, 
And  led  the  herald  of  the  old  King  in, 
And  bade  him  sit.     Then  from  the  shining  cart 
They  took  the  priceless  ransom  for  the  head 
Of  Hector.     But  two  robes  they  left,  and  one 
Tunic  well-knit,  that  he  might  wrap  therewith 
The  dead,  and  give  him  to  be  carried  home. 
Calling  the  maids  he  ordered  them  to  wash 
And  to  anoint  him,  taking  him  apart. 
That  Priam  might  not  look  upon  his  son. 
Lest  in  his  sorrowing  spirit  he  might  not 
Restrain  his  wrath  when  he  beheld  his  child; 
And  so  Achilles*  heart  would  be  aroused. 
And  he  would  slay  him,  and  transgress  the  will 
Of  Zeus.^ 

Achilles  breathes  the  prayer: 

**  Patroclus,  be  not  wroth, 
Even  in  Hades,  that  I  have  released 
The  mighty  Hector  to  his  loving  father. 
For  no  unworthy  ransom  did  he  give. 
And  with  thee  I  will  share  it,  as  is  right." 

Then,  turning  to  Priam: 

**Thy  son  is  freed,  old  man,  as  thou  hast  bid, 
And  lies  upon  the  bier.     At  dawn  shalt  thou 
Behold  and  bear  him  hence.     But  now  let  us 

iThe  courteous  and  cbivalric  host,  fearing  that  a  savage  devil  maybe 
roused  in  his  own  heart,  is  an  early  and  striking  example  of  conscious-dualism. 


28  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Take  thought  of  supper " 

When  they  had  sated  them  with  food  and  drink, 

Dardanian  Priam  at  Achilles  gazed 

In  wonder,  seeing  him  so  tall  and  fair. 

Achilles  too  admired  Dardanian  Priam, 

Viewing  his  goodly  aspect,  giving  ear 

Unto  his  words.     But  when  they  had  looked  their  fill 

At  one  another,  first  unto  his  host 

The  venerable,  godlike  Priam  spoke: 

"Let  me  at  once,  O  child  of  Zeus,  lie  down, 

That  we  of  slumber  sweet  may  have  our  fill. 

And  rest.     Nor  yet  mine  eyes* beneath  their  lids 

Have  closed,  since  at  thy  hands  my  son  gave  up 

His  life,  but  evermore  I  groan  aloud. 

And  brood  on  my  innumerable  griefs. 

Rolling  in  filth  within  my  courtyard's  close. 

Now  truly  have  I  tasted  food,  and  let 

.The  gleaming  wine  pass  down  my  throat.     Before 

I  had  tasted  nothing. '* 

The  beds  are  accordingly  spread  under  the  colonnade  in 
the  courtyard.  Before  they  part  for  the  night,  however, 
a  yet  more  generous  thought  occurs  to  Achilles,  and  he 
asks  his  guest: 

"But  prithee  tell  me,  and  say  truthfully. 

How  many  days  thou  dost  intend  to  pay 

Thy  rites  to  mighty  Hector,  so  that  I 

Myself  may  wait,  and  hold  my  folk  aloof. '  * 

Then  agdd  godlike  Priam  answered  him: 

"If  thou  indeed  dost  wish  me  to  complete 

Great  Hector's  burial,  by  acting  thus, 

Achilles,  thou  wouldst  win  my  gratitude; 

Thou  knowest  we  are  pent  within  the  town. 

The  wood  is  from  the  mountain  far  to  fetch. 

And  much  in  fear  the  Trojans.     We  would  wail 

Nine  days  for  him  within  our  halls,  and  on 

The  tenth  would  bury  him,  and  the  folk  would  feast. 


Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad  29 

The  eleventh  we  could  rear  a  mound  for  him, 

And  on  the  twelfth  will  fight,  if  needs  must  be." 

Then  great  Achilles,  fleet  of  foot,  replied: 

**  These  things  shall  be  for  thee  as  thou  dost  bid. 

And  even  for  so  long  a  time  will  I 

Put  off  the  war  as  thou  commandest  me." 

This  princely  promise  of  Achilles  was  fulfilled,  and 
with  a  curt  account  of  Hector's  funeral  the  *'IHad"  ends. 
Of  course  the  final  downfall  of  Troy  has  been  often  fore- 
shadowed. The  famous  wooden  horse  is  first  mentioned 
in  the  * 'Odyssey."  A  number  of  early  epics,  now  lost, 
were  composed  expressly  to  complete  the  tale  of  Troy. 
Later  poets,  down  to  Tennyson  and  Andrew  Lang,  have 
felt  the  same  impulse. 

As  to  the  authors  of  the  '4Had"  we  know  nothing. 
They  may  have  sung  to  princes  somewhat  as  the  *' Iliad" 
describes.  But  our  first  historical  view  of  Hellas,  about 
600  B.C. — as  outHned  in  Herodotus, — shows  us,  on  both 
sides  the  ^gean,  trading  towns,  generally  held  by  free 
communities.  Some  such  a  picture  we  get,  also,  in  one 
very  late  addition  to  the  **  Iliad"  itself:  the  account  of  the 
decorations  on  Achilles'  shield.  The  feudal  Homeric  life 
had  already  vanished,  if  it  ever  had  existed. 

Courtly  minstrels  are  described  in  both  the  ** Iliad" 
and  the  **Odyssey."  Professional  reciters  or  rhapsodes, 
not  themselves  creative  poets,  existed,  singly  or  in  fami- 
nes and  guilds,  down  to  a  late  date.  The  best  description 
of  a  Homeric  recitation  is  in  Plato's  "Ion": 

*'l  often  envy  the  profession  of  a  rhapsode,"  says 
Socrates.     *'He  has  always  to  wear  fine  clothes,  and  to 

look  as  beautiful  as  possible  is  a  part  of  his  art 

He  has  a  golden  crown  upon  his  head 


JO  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

**When  you  produce  the  greatest  effect  upon  the 
audience  in  the  recitation  of  some  striking  passage,  such 
as  the  apparition  of  Odysseus  leaping  forth  on  the  floor, 
recognized  by  the  suitors  and  casting  his  arrows  at  his 
feet,  ....  are  you  in  your  right  mind?  Are  you  not 
carried  out  of  yourself,  and  does  not  your  soul  in  an 
ecstasy  seem  to  be  among  the  persons  or  places  of  which 
you  are  speaking,  whether  they  are  in  Ithaca  or  in  Troy 
or  whatever  may  be  the  scene  of  the  poem?'* 

These  reciters  were  clearly  almost  actors.  Whether 
the  player  is  absorbed  in  his  part,  is  a  question  still 
debated.  The  answer  is  both  yes  and  no.  The  imitative 
artist  has  two  selves,  one  critical,  one  sympathetic. 

But  the  questions,  When,  By  whom.  To  whom,  was 
the  ''Iliad"  jirst  recited,  cannot  be  answered.  In  its 
present  gigantic  form,  of  course,  it  could  not  be  recited 
at  one  time  at  all.  Between  its  ideal  scenes,  and  the  real 
life  of  him  who  gave  the  poem  essentially  its  present 
shape,  there  may  have  been  as  wide  a  gulf  as,  for  example, 
between  Arthur's  Camelot  and  the  age  of  Alfred  Tenny- 
son. 

The  tradition  of  a  blind  Homer,  born  on  the  island  of 
Chios,  starts  with  the  ''Homeric  Hymn"  to  Delian 
Apollo.  That  poem  is  at  least  a  century  or  two  later 
than  the  "Iliad,"  and  the  passage  referred  to  seems  per- 
fectly realistic,  but  most  un-Homeric.  This  free  and 
happy  folk  are  nowise  Hke  the  despised  commons  of  the 
"Iliad."  Still  less  could  the  poet,  who  has  so  carefully 
effaced  himself  from  every  page  of  the  great  epic,  have 
made  any  such  self-conscious  plea  for  personal  attention 
as  is  here  set  forth: 


Later  Additions  to  the  Iliad  31 

Greeting  unto  you  all :  and  be  ye  of  me  hereafter 
Mindful',   when  some  other  of  men  that  on  earth  have 

abiding 
Hither  may  come,  an  outworn  stranger,  and  ask  you  the 

question : 
**Oh,  ye  maidens,  and  who  for  you  is  the  sweetest  of 

minstrels. 
Whoso  hither  doth  come,  in  whom  ye  most  are  delighted?" 
Then  do  ye  all,  I  pray,  with  one  voice  answer  and  tell  him, 
**  Blind  is  the  man,  and  in  Chios  abounding  in  crags  is  his 

dwelling. 
He  it  is  whose  songs  shall  all  be  supreme  in  the  future.'* 

So  this  anonymous  hymn  only  confirms  the  regretful 
confession,  that,  as  to  the  poet  or  poets  of  the  ''IHad," 
nothing  can  ever  be  known. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  translations  from  the  "Iliad"  in  this  chapter  are  taken, 
by  permission  of  the  Macmillan  Company,  from  Lawton's  "Art 
and  Humanity  in  Homer,"  where  other  experiments  in  hexameter 
may  be  found.  For  the  "Homeric  Hymns"  there  are  complete 
translations  in  prose  by  Edgar  and  Andrew  Lang.  On  the  hymns 
see  also  Lawton's  "Successors  of  Homer."  The  "Ion"  should 
be  read  entire  in  Jowett's  translation  of  Plato.  See  also  the  note 
at  the  end  of  the  previous  chapter. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  ODYSSEY 

Home  Love.     The  Return  of  Odysseus, 

The  '* Odyssey"  is  an  epic  of  12,000  lines,  resembling 
the  ''Iliad"  in  language,  metre,  and  general  tone.  As  a 
whole  it  seems  more  refined  and  humane,  and  is  probably 
a  few  decades  younger.  It  describes  the  adventures  of  the 
crafty  Odysseus, — the  real  victor  over  Troy,  through  the 
stratagem  of  the  wooden  horse, — on  his  ten-year  long 
homeward  voyage.  Best-known,  doubtless,  are  such 
scenes  as  his  escape  from  the  gigantic  Cyclops'  cave,  by 
making  the  monster  drunk  and  then  boring  out  his  single 
eye.  This  exploit  is,  however,  a  world-wide  myth  of 
many  peoples,  told  of  each  national  hero,  and  probably 
older  far  than  the  whole  tale  of  Troy.  The  dominant 
chord  of  the  great  song  is  not  love  of  adventure,  but  love 
of  home.     The  very  invocation  is  the  best  illustration: 

*'Tell  me,  O  Muse,  of  that  sagacious  man 
Who,  having  overthrown  the  sacred  town 
Of  Ilium,  wandered  far  and  visited 
The  capitals  of  many  nations,  learned 
The  customs  of  their  dwellers,  and  endured 
Great  suffering  on  the  deep;  his  life  was  oft 
In  peril,  as  he  labored  to  bring  back 

His  comrades  to  their  homes " 

**Now  all  the  rest,  as  many  as  escaped 

The  cruel  doom  of  death,  were  at  their  homes, 

Safe  from  the  perils  of  the  war  and  sea, 

32 


The  Odyssey  33 

While  him  alone,  who  pined  to  see  his  home 
And  wife  again,  Calypso,  queenly  nymph. 
Great  among  goddesses,  detained  within 
Her  spacious  grot .  *  * 

Pallas  Athene,  his  chief  patron,  begins  her  plea  to  the 
gods  for  him  thus: 

**I  am  grieved 
For  sage  Ulysses,  that  most  wretched  man, 
So  long  detained,  repining,  and  afar 
From  those  he  loves,  upon  a  distant  isle.** 

....  "Impatient  to  behold  the  smokes 
That  rise  from  hearths  in  his  own  land,  he  pines. 
And  willingly  would  die.*' 

The  first  four  books  describe  chiefly  young  Telemachus* 
wanderings  in  quest  of  his  father. 

In  Book  V.  we  see  the  hero  himself.  Calypso,  by 
command  of  Zeus,  is  forced  to  speed  him  on  his  home- 
ward way. 

Him  she  found  beside  the  deep. 
Seated  alone,  with  eyes  from  which  the  tears 
Were  never  dried,  for  now  no  more  the  nymph 
Delighted  him.     He  wasted  his  sweet  Hfe 
In  yearning  for  his  home.     Night  after  night 
He  slept  constrained  within  the  hdllow  cave, 
The  unwilling  by  the  fond :  and  day  by  day 
He  sat  upon  the  rocks  that  edged  the  shore. 
And  in  continual  weeping,  and  in  sighs, 
And  vain  repinings,  wore  the  hours  away. 
Gazing  through  tears  upon  the  barren  deep. 

The  reply  of  Odysseus  to  the  gentle  nymph's  last 
loving  plea  has  a  certain  resemblance  to  the  ancient  myth 
of  Marpessa,  as  recently  retold  by  Stephen  Philhps. 
Calypso  had  said: 


34  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

"Farewell: — 
But,  couldst  thou  know  the  sufferings  Fate  ordains 
For  thee  ere  yet  thou  landest  on  thy  shore, 
Thou  wouldst  remain  to  keep  this  home  with  me. 
And  be  immortal,  strong  as  is  thy  wish 
To  see  thy  wife, — a  wish  that  day  by  day 
Possesses  thee.     I  cannot  deem  myself 
In  face  or  form  less  beautiful  than  she; 
For  never  with  immortals  can  the  race 
Of  mortal  dames  in  form  or  face  compare. " 

Ulysses,  the  sagacious,  answered  her 
**Bear  with  me,  gracious  goddess;  well  I  know 
All  thou  couldst  say.     The  sage  Penelope 
In  feature  and  in  stature  comes  not  nigh 
To  thee,  for  she  is  mortal — deathless  thou. 
And  ever  young;  yet  day  by  day  I  long 
To  be  at  home  once  more,  and  pine  to  see 
The  hour  of  my  return.     Even  though  some  god 
Smite  me  on  the  black  ocean,  I  shall  bear 
The  stroke,  for  in  my  bosom  dwells  a  mind 
Patient  of  suffering;  much  have  I  endured, 
And  much  survived,  in  tempests  on  the  deep 
And  in  the  battle;  let  this  happen  too. " 

Like  Marpessa,  the  hero  turns  away  from  an  immortal, 
preferring  the  love  of  a  fitter  though  less  glorious  human 
mate.  The  wanderer  is  not,  indeed,  so  austerely  faithful 
as  is  the  loyal  wife  Penelope  at  home.  Not  only  the 
gentle  Calypso,  but  even  the  cruel  enchantress  Circe,  who 
turns  men  into  swine,  had  for  a  time  shared  his  affections. 
Yet  after  his  last  shipwreck,  when  appealing  humbly  for 
help  to  the  brave  little  princess  Nausicaa,  who  had  rescued 
him,  he  rises  to  a  lofty  key. 

''May  the  gods  vouchsafe 
To  thee  whatever  blessings  thou  canst  wish; 
Husband,  and  home,  and  w^edded  harmony. 


The  Odyssey  35 

There  is  no  better,  no  more  blessed  state, 
Than  when  the  wife  and  husband  in  accord 
Order  their  household  lovingly.     Then  those 
Repine  who  hate  them;  those  who  wish  them  well 
Rejoice,  and  they  themselves  the  most  of  all. '  * 

Nausicaa  herself  furnishes  him,  in  roguish  fashion,  a 
ghmpse  of  her  own  happy  home. 

**When  thou  art  once  within  our  court  and  hall, 
Go  quickly  through  the  palace  till  thou  find 
My  mother  where  she  sits  beside  the  hearth. 
Leaning  against  a  column  in  its  blaze. 
And  twisting  threads,  a  marvel  to  behold. 
Of  bright  sea-purple,  while  her  maidens  sit 
Behind  her.     Near  her  is  my  father's  throne. 
On  which  he  sits  at  feasts,  and  drinks  the  wine 
Like  one  of  the  immortals.     Pass  it  by, 
And  clasp  my  mother's  knees;  so  mayst  thou  see 
Soon  and  with  joy  the  day  of  thy  return, 
Although  thy  home  be  far.     For  if  her  mood 
Be  kindly  toward  thee,  thou  mayst  hope  to  greet 
Thy  friends  once  more,  and  enter  yet  again 
Thy  own  fair  palace  in  thy  native  land." 

The  farthest  voyage  of  Odysseus  is  to  the  land  of  the 
dead.  Here  he  meets,  among  many  besides,  his  own 
mother's  lonely  ghost.  In  her  surprise  at  his  arrival 
there,  a  living  man,  she  exclaims: 

'*Hast  thou  come  hither  on  thy  way  from  Troy, 
A  weary  wanderer  with  thy  ship  and  friends? 
And  hast  thou  not  yet  been  at  Ithaca, 
Nor  in  thine  island  palace  seen  thy  wife?" 

Even  before  mentioning  his  boyish  son,  or  his  distracted 
kingdom,  his  mother  tells  him  of  Penelope's  faithfulness: 


36  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

**Most  certain  is  it  that  she  sadly  dwells 

Still  in  thy  palace.     Weary  days  and  nights 

And  tears  are  hers.     No  man  has  taken  yet 

Thy  place  as  ruler,  but  Telemachus 

Still  has  the  charge  of  thy  domain,  and  gives 

The  liberal  feasts,  which  it  befits  a  prince 

To  give,  for  all  invite  him.     In  the  fields 

Thy  father  dwells,  and  never  in  the  town 

Is  seen;  nor  beds  nor  cloaks  has  he,  nor  mats 

Of  rich  device,  but,  all  the  winter  through 

He  sleeps  where  sleep  the  laborers,  on  the  hearth. 

Amid  the  dust,  and  wears  a  wretched  garb; 

And  when  the  summer  comes,  or  autumn  days 

Ripen  the  fruit,  his  bed  is  on  the  ground. 

And  made  of  leaves,  that  everywhere  are  shed 

In  the  rich  vineyards.     There  he  lies  and  grieves. 

And,  cherishing  his  sorrow,  mourns  thy  fate. 

And  keenly  feels  the  miseries  of  age." 

The  Homeric  preference  for  city  luxury  over  rustic 
discomfort  seems  here  plainly  intimated,  but  especially 
striking  is  the  simple  strong  appeal  to  filial  love,  to  the 
tender  memories  of  home  and  kin. 

When  Odysseus  first  lands  on  the  loneliest  shore  of 
Ithaca,  alone,  disguised  as  a  beggar,  from  the  vessel  of 
Nausicaa's  kindly  people,  he  is  near  to  being  torn  in 
pieces  by  the  watchdogs  of  his  faithful  swineherd.  The 
latter,  rescuing  him,  cries  out : 

**0  aged  man,  the  mastiff's  of  the  lodge 

Had  almost  torn  thee,  and  thou  wouldst  have  cast 

Bitter  reproach  upon  me.     Other  griefs 

And  miseries  the  gods  have  made  my  lot. 

Here  sorrowfully  sitting  I  lament 

A  godlike  master,  and  for  others  tend 

His  fatling  swine,  while,  haply  hungering 

For  bread,  he  wanders  among  alien  men 


The  Odyssey  37 

In  other  kingdoms,  if  indeed  he  lives 
And  looks  upon  the  sun." 

**The  gods  themselves 
Prevent,  no  doubt,  the  safe  return  of  him 
Who  loved  me  much,  and  would  ere  this  have  given 
What  a  kind  lord  is  wont  to  give  his  hind — 
A  house,  a  croft,  the  wife  whom  he  has  wooed, 
Rewarding  faithful  services  which  God 
Hath  prospered,  as  he  here  hath  prospered  mine. 
Thus  would  my  master,  had  he  here  grown  old. 
Have  recompensed  my  toils, — but  he  is  dead. 
O  that  the  house  of  Helen,  for  whose  sake 
So  many  fell,  had  perished  utterly! 
For  he  went  forth  at  Agamemnon's  call. 
Honoring  the  summons,  and  on  Ilium's  coast, 
Famed  for  its  coursers,  fought  the  sons  of  Troy."  * 

The  bondsman's  humbler  ideal  of  bHss  is  like  his  mas- 
ter's. In  hut  or  palace  it  is  home,  wife,  rest  from  wander- 
ing, that  make  up  happiness;  though,  as  the  swineherd 
himself  says,  the  past  wanderings  may  heighten  the  joy  of 
present  peace. 

**For  in  the  aftertime 
One  who  has  suffered  much  and  wandered  far 
May  take  a  pleasure  even  in  his  griefs." 

A  yet  homelier  and  still  more  powerful  bit  of  realism 
should  not  be  omitted.  When  Odysseus,  in  the  guise  of 
an  aged  and  wretched  beggar,  reenters  his  own  gate,  he 
is  first  recognized  by  his  old  hound. 

There  lay 
Argus,  devoured  with  vermin.     As  he  saw 
Ulysses  drawing  near,  he  wagged  his  tail 
And  dropped  his  ears,  but  found  that  he  could  come 

1  These  echoes  of  the  "Iliad"  seem  to  be  in  the  tones  of  a  later  age,  less 
fond  of  war  and  violence. 


3  8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

No  nearer  to  his  master.     Seeing  this, 

Ulysses  wiped  away  a  tear,  unmarked 

By  the  good  swineherd,  whom  he  questioned  thus: 

'*Eumaeus,  this  I  marvel  at, — this  dog. 

That  lies  upon  the  dunghill,  beautiful 

In  form,  but  whether  in  the  chase  as  fleet 

As  he  is  fairly  shaped  I  cannot  tell. 

Worthless,  perchance,  as  housedogs  often  are, 

Whose  masters  keep  them  for  the  sake  of  show.  * ' 

And  thus,  Eumaeus,  thou  didst  make  reply: 
**This  dog  belongs  to  one  who  died  afar. 
Had  he  the  power  of  limb  which  once  he  had 
For  feats  of  hunting,  when  Ulysses  sailed 
For  Troy  and  left  him,  thou  wouldst  be  amazed 
Both  at  his  swiftness  and  his  strength.     No  beast 
In  the  thick  forest  depths,  which  once  he  saw. 
Or  even  tracked  by  footprints,  could  escape. 
And  now  he  is  a  sufferer,  since  his  lord 
Has  perished  far  from  his  own  land.     No  more 
The  careless  women  heed  the  creature's  wants '* 

He  spake,  and  entering  that  fair  dwelling-place, 
Passed  through  to  where  the  illustrious  suitors  sat. 
While  over  Argus  the  black  night  of  death 
Came  suddenly,  as  soon  as  he  had  seen 
Ulysses,  absent  now  for  twenty  years. 

The  first  words  uttered  by  the  hero,  still  incognito^  to 
his  wife,  are  noble  and  pathetic: 

**0  lady,  none  in  all  the  boundless  earth 

Can  speak  of  thee  with  blame.     Thy  fame  has  reached 

To  the  great  heavens.     It  is  like  the  renown 

Of  some  most  excellent  king,  of  godHke  sway 

O'er  many  men  and  mighty,  who  upholds 

Justice  in  all  his  realm 

But  of  my  race  and  home 
Inquire  not,  lest  thou  waken  in  my  mind 
Unhappy  memories.     I  am  a  man 
Of  sorrows " 


The  Odyssey  39 

His  old  nurse,  the  faithful  Eurycleia,  is  required  to 
wash  his  feet,  and  recognizes  her  fosterchild  by  the  great 
scar  of  a  wound  received  many  years  before  from  a  wild 
boar's  tusk. 

At  once  a  rush 
Of  gladness  and  of  grief  o'ercame  her  heart. 
Tears  filled  her  eyes,  and  her  clear  voice  was  choked. 
She  touched  Ulysses  on  the  chin,  and  said:- — 
**Dear  child!  Thou  art  Ulysses,  of  a  truth. 
I  knew  thee  not  till  I  had  touched  the  scar.** 
So  speaking,  toward  Penelope  she  turned 
Her  eyes,  about  to  tell  her  that  her  lord 
Was  in  the  palace;  but  the  queen  saw  not, 
And  all  that  passed  was  unperceived  by  her, 
For  Pallas  turned  her  thoughts  another  way. 
Meantime,  Ulysses  on  the  nurse's  throat 
Laid  his  right  hand,  and  with  the  other  drew 
The  aged  woman  nearer  him,  and  said: — 
"Nurse,  wouldst  thou  ruin  me,  who  drew  long  since 
Milk  from  thy  bosom,  and  who  now  return, 
After  much  suffering  borne  for  twenty  years 
To  mine  own  land?     Now  then,  since  thou  hast  learned 
The  truth,  by  prompting  of  some  god,  no  doubt, — 
Keep  silence,  lest  some  others  in  the  house 
Should  learn  it  also " 

Amid  the  terrible  scene  of  vengeance,  when  all  the 
hundred  suitors  are  slain  in  the  great  hall,  the  herald  Medon, 
fosterfather  of  the  boy  Telemachus,  is  one  of  the  two 
men  that  are  spared.  The  other  is  the  sweet-voiced  court 
minstrel,  who 

went  and  clasped 
The  hero's  knees,  and  said  in  winged  words: — 
**I  come,  Ulysses,  to  thy  knees.     Respect 
And  spare  me.     It  will  be  a  grief  to  thee. 
Hereafter,  shouldst  thou  slay  a  bard  who  sings 
For  gods  and  men  alike.     I  taught  myself 


40  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

This  art:  some  god  has  breathed  into  my  mind 
Songs  of  all  kinds,  and  I  could  sing  to  thee 
As  to  a  god.     O  seek  not,  then,  to  take 
My  life !     Thy  own  dear  son,  Telemachus, 
Will  bear  me  witness  that  not  willingly, 
Nor  for  the  sake  of  lucre,  did  I  come 
To  sing  before  the  suitors  at  their  feasts 
And  in  thy  palace,  but  was  forced  to  come 
By  numbers,  and  by  mightier  men  than  I." 
He  ceased;  Telemachus,  the  mighty,  heard 
And  thus  bespake  his  father  at  his  side: — 
''Refrain,  smite  not  the  guiltless  with  the  sword; 
And  be  the  herald,  Medon,  also  spared. 
Who  in  our  palace  had  the  care  of  me 
Through  all  my  childhood " 

Here  too  is  the  appeal  to  the  familiar  home-feehng. 
These  were  really  weaklings,  who  had  not,  like  Eumaeus, 
been  steadfast  to  the  absent  overlord: — but  the  child  of 
the  house  loved  them  of  old,  and  pleads  for  them  now. 

The  final  scene  of  reunion  shows  that  the  crafty  Odys- 
seus had  indeed  chosen  a  wife  after  his  own  heart.  She 
still  doubts  if  some  god  may  not  have  come  down  to  slay 
the  suitors  and  deceive  her.  She  puts  her  truant  lord  to 
a  cunning  test,  bidding  the  old  Eurycleia  draw  his  bed  out 
from  the  chamber  into  the  hall  for  him  to  He  at  ease.  But 
Odysseus  and  Penelope,  with  one  trusted  servant,  alone 
know  that  this  is  impossible.  The  bed  was  built  about 
the  great  trunk  of  a  living  tree.  When  he  rather  sternly 
reminds  her  of  this,  her  last  doubt  is  effaced. 

He  spake,  and  her  knees  fainted,  and  her  heart 
Was  melted,  as  she  heard  her  lord  recount 
The  tokens  all  so  truly;  and  she  wept. 
And  rose,  and  ran  to  him,  and  flung  her  arms 
About  his  neckj  and  kissed  his  brow,  and  said: — 


The  Odyssey  41 

"Ulysses,  look  not  on  me  angrily, 

Thou  who  in  other  things  art  wise  above 

All  other  men.     The  gods  have  made  our  lot 

A  hard  one,  jealous  lest  we  should  have  passed 

Our  youth  together  happily,  and  thus 

Have  reached  old  age.     I  pray,  be  not  incensed, 

Nor  take  it  ill  that  I  embraced  thee  not 

As  soon  as  I  beheld  thee,  for  my  heart 

Has  ever  trembled  lest  some  one  who  comes 

Into  this  isle  should  cozen  me  with  words; 

And  they  who  practice  fraud  are  numberless. 

The  Argive  Helen,  child  of  Jupiter, 

Would  ne'er  have  listened  to  a  stranger's  suit 

And  loved  him,  had  she  known  that  in  the  years 

To  come  the  warlike  Greeks  would  bring  her  back 

To  her  own  land.     It  was  a  deity 

Who  prompted  her  to  that  foul  wrong.     Her  thought 

Was  never  of  the  great  calamity 

Which  followed,  and  which  brought  such  woe  on  us. 

**But  now,  since  thou  by  tokens  clear  and  true. 
Hast  spoken  of  our  bed,  which  human  eye 
Has  never  seen  save  mine  and  thine,  and  those 
Of  one  my  handmaid  only,  Actoris, — 
Her  whom  my  father  gave  me  when  I  came 
To  this  thy  palace,  and  who  kept  the  door 
To  our  close  chamber, — thou  hast  won  my  mind 
To  full  belief,  though  hard  it  was  to  win." 

She  spake,  and  he  was  moved  to  tears;  he  wept 
As  in  his  arms  he  held  his  dearly  loved 
And  faithful  wife.     As  welcome  as  the  land 
To  those  who  swim  the  deep,  of  whose  stout  bark 
Neptune  has  made  a  wreck  amid  the  waves. 
Tossed  by  the  billow  and  the  blast,  and  few 
Are  those  who  from  the  hoary  ocean  reach 
The  shore,  their  limbs  all  crested  with  the  brine. 
These  gladly  climb  the  sea-beach  and  are  safe, — 
So  welcome  was  her  husband  to  her  eyes. 

These  passages,  and  others  like  them,  set  forth  what 


42  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

is  really  the  central  motive  of  the  "Odyssey."  But  both 
the  great  epics  should  be  diligently  and  repeatedly  studied 
entire.  Whether  realistic,  or,  as  the  writer  believes, 
purely  ideal,  the  picture  they  portray  is  the  first  large 
view  of  European  life  we  can  descry.  It  is  especially 
gratifying  to  see  the  honorable  place  held  by  women  in 
the  Homeric  home.  The  later  Greeks  restricted  her  to  a 
life  more  like  that  of  an  Oriental  harem.  For  this  and  other 
reasons  many  students  draw  a  fuller  enjoyment  from  the 
**  Odyssey"  than  from  any  masterpiece  of  the  later  Greek 
literature.  Certainly  no  apology  will  be  needed  for  the 
relatively  large  space  here  given  to  this  humane,  beautiful, 
and  ennobling  story:  the  long  tale  of  Helen's  sin  and 
Troy's  beleaguering:  of  the  many  heroes  that  perished 
and  the  few  that  came  safe  home.  For  compared  with 
other  literature,  even  in  Greek  lands  and  speech,  Homeric 
epic  is  one  and  indivisible. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

There  are  rhymed  translations  of  the  '*Odyssey"  by  Chap- 
man, Pope  (only  a  few  books  by  his  own  hand),  William  Morris, 
Way,  etc.,  and  especially  by  Worsley  in  the  nine-line  Spenserean 
stanza.  The  last-named  is  closer  than  would  seem  possible,  and 
has  a  romantic  charm  not  quite  Homeric.  Bryant's  blank  verse 
is  better  suited  to  this  poem  than  to  the  battle-scenes  of  the 
"Iliad."  The  Macmillan  prose  version  by  Butcher  and  Lang  is 
excellent.  Still  easier,  and  more  entrancing  for  a  young  reader, 
is  Professor  Palmer's  rendering  in  "rhythmical  prose." 


CHAPTER   IV 

HESIOD'S  WORKS  AND  DAYS 

Rustic  Thrift. 

Many  early  epics,  now  lost  save  a  few  lines,  were 
ascribed  by  the  Greeks  to  Homer.  Some  thirty  '*  Homeric 
Hymns**  are  still  extant.  Though  they  often  preserve  an 
early  and  interesting  form  of  important  myths,  these 
hymns  are  centuries  younger  than  the  * 'Odyssey." 
Many  of  their  lines  are  borrowed  verbatim  from  the  two 
great  epics.  One  of  these  hymns,  probably  the  oldest, 
was  cited  on  an  earlier  page. 

The  name  most  frequently  set  beside  Homer  is  Hesiod. 
Of  the  two  extant  poems  credited  to  him,  the  '^Theogony, " 
a  crudely  philosophic  attempt  to  set  forth  the  origin  of 
the  universe  and  the  complicated  kinship  of  the  many 
gods,  is  less  interesting  than  the  *' Works  and  Days.'* 
This  poem  has  for  its  chief  lesson  '*In  the  sweat  of  thy 
brow  shalt  thou  earn  thy  bread."  The  poet  and  his 
brother,  whom  he  addresses,  are  farmers  in  a  poor  Boeo- 
tian village,  A  sera.  Much  of  the  advice  given  is  as 
homely  as  Poor  Richard's  or  Thomas  Tusser's. 

Yet  a  poetic  strain  is  also  present.  The  dialect  and 
metre  are  essentially  Homeric.  When  he  rises  to  loftiest 
subjects,  however,  such  as  the  far-off  golden  age  of  the 
past,  Hesiod  is  still  always  pessimistic.  Even  the  cham- 
pionship of  Prometheus  has  but  hastened  the  swift  degen- 
eracy of  man.     The  Pandora  story,  as  told  both  here 

43 


44  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

and,  somewhat  differently,  in  the  **Theogony,*'  shows 
Hesiod  to  be  a  bitter  woman-hater. 

Some  scholars  regard  the  character  of  Hesiod  as  an 
imaginative  creation;  but  he  is  more  generally  felt  to  be 
not  merely  realistic,  but  an  actual  person.  Though  lines 
and  couplets  could  very  easily  be,  and  probably  were, 
inserted  from  other  poexus,  or  even  composed,  much 
later,  the  ** Works  and  Days"  as  a  whole  may  well  date 
back  to  the  eighth  century  B.C.  Its  maxims  often  bring 
us  very  close  to  the  common  Greek  life  and  feeling. 

The  poem  exercised  much  influence  on  the  later 
Greeks,  and  was  the  chief  source  for  Virgil  in  his 
*'Georgics.'*  Here  again,  as  with  the  '*IHad,*'  how- 
ever, we  know  little  of  the  circumstances  which  created 
this  mass  of  poetry,  of  the  men  who  composed  or  first 
listened  to  it.  Such  a  philosophic  episode  as  the  tale  of 
Pandora,  the  *' All-gifted,"  with  its  imaginative  satire  on 
feminine  curiosity,  can  hardly  come  from  the  same  hands 
as  the  homely  maxims  for  rustic  guidance.  Many  critics 
say  the  poem  has  no  real  unity  or  plan. 

Pandora 
From  ''Works  and  Days" 
Zeus  in  the  wrath  of  his  heart  hath  hidden  the  means  of 

subsistence. 
Wrathful   because   he   once   was   deceived   by   the  wily 

Prometheus, 
Therefore  it  was  he  devised  most  grievous  trouble  for 

mortals. 
Fire  he  hid:  yet  that,  for  men,  did  the  gallant  Prometheus 
Steal,  in  a  hollow  reed,  from  the  dwelling  of  Zeus  the 

Adviser; 
Nor  was  he  seen  by  the  ruler  of  gods,  who  delights  in  the 

thunder. 


Hesiod's  Works  and  Days  45 

Then,  in  his  rage  at  the  deed,  cloud-gathering  Zeus  did 
address  him: 

"lapetionides,  in  cunning  greater  than  any, 

Thou  in  the  theft  of  fire,  and  deceit  of  me  art  exulting — 

Source  of  grief  for  thyself,  and  for  men  who  shall  be  here- 
after. 

I  in  the  place  of  fire  will  give  thee  a  bane,  so  that  all  men 

May  in  spirit  exult,  and  find  in  their  misery  comfort!" 

Speaking  thus,  loud  laughed  he,  the  father  of  gods  and 
of  mortals. 

Then  he  commanded  Hephaistos,  the  cunning  artificer, 
straightway 

Mixing  water  and  earth,  with  speech  and  force  to  endow  it, 

Making  it  like  in  face  to  the  gods  whose  life  is  eternal. 

Virginal,  winning  and  fair,  was  the  shape,  and  he  ordered 
Athene 

Skillful  devices  to  teach  her,  the  beautiful  works  of  the 
weaver. 

Then  did  he  bid  Aphrodite,  the  golden,  endow  her  with 
beauty. 

Eager  desire,  and  passion  that  wasteth  the  bodies  of  mor- 
tals. 

Hermes,  guider  of  men,the  destroyer  of  Argus,  he  ordered. 

Lastly,  a  shameless  mind  to  accord  her,  and  treacherous 
nature. 
So  did  bespeak.     They  obeyed  lord  Zeus,  who  is  off- 
spring of  Kronos. 

Straightway   out   of    the   earth   the   renowned   Artificer 

fashioned 
One  like  a  shamefaced  maid,  at  the  will  of  the  Ruler  of 

Heaven. 
Girdle    and    ornament   added    the   bright-eyed    goddess 

Athene, 
Over  her  body  the  Graces  divine,  and  noble  Perauasion, 
Hung  their  golden  chains,  and  the  Hours,  with  beautiful 

tresses. 
Wove  her  garlands  of  flowers,  that  bloom  in  the  season  of 

springtime. 


46  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

All  her  adornment  Pallas  Athene  fitted  upon  her; 

Into  her  bosom  Hermes  the  guide,  the  destroyer  of  Argus, 

Falsehood,  treacherous  thoughts,  and  a  thievish  nature 

imparted — 
Such  was  the  will  of  Zeus,  who  heavily  thunders;  and 

lastly 
Hermes,  herald  of  gods,  endowed  her  with  speech,  and 

the  woman 
Named  Pandora,  because  all  gods  who  dwell  in  Olympus 
Gave  to  her  gifts  that  would  make  her  a  fatal  bane  unto 

mortals. 

When  now  Zeus  had  finished   the  snare  so  deadly  and 

certain. 
Famous  Argus-slayer,  the  herald  of  gods,  he  commanded. 
Leading  her  thence,  as  a  gift  to  bestow  her  upon  Epi- 

metheus. 
He,  then,  failed  to  remember  Prometheus  had  bidden  him 

never 
Gifts  to  accept  from  Olympian  Zeus,  but  still  to  return 

them 
Straightway,  lest  some  evil  befall  thereby  unto  mortals. 
So  he  received  her — and  then,  when  the  evil  befell,  he 

remembered. 
Till  that  time,  upon  earth  were  dwelling  the  races  of 

mortals 
Free  and  secure  from  trouble,  and  free  from  wearisome 

labor. 
Safe  from  painful  diseases,  that  bring  mankind  to  destruc- 
tion: 
(Since  full  swiftly  in  misery  age  unto  mortals  approacheth.) 
Now  with  her  hands  Pandora  the  great  lid  raised  from  the 

vessel. 
Letting  them  loose;  and  grievous  the  evil  for  men  she 

provided. 
Only  Hope  was  left,  in  the  dwelling  securely  imprisoned. 
Since  she  under  the  edge  of  the  cover  had  lingered,  and 

flew  not 
Forth;  too  soon  Pandora  had  fastened  the  lid  of  the  vessel. 


Hesiod's  Works  and  Days  47 

Such  was  the  will  of  Zeus,  cloudgatherer,  lord  of  the  gegis. 
Numberless  evils  beside  to  the  haunts  of  men  had  departed; 
Full  is  the  earth  of  ills,  and  full  no  less  are  the  waters. 
Freely  diseases  among  mankind,  by  day  and  in  darkness. 
Hither  and  thither  may  pass,  and  bring  much  woe  upon 

mortals, — 
Voiceless,    since    of    speech   high-counselling   Zeus    has 

bereft  them. 

Rustic  Maxims 

From  ^'Works  and  Days^^ 

Never  a  man  hath  won  him  a  nobler  prize  than  a  woman, 
If  she  be  good ;  but  again,  there  is  naught  else  worse  than 
a  bad  one. 

But  do  thou  store  these  matters  away  in  thy  memory, 

Perses! 
Let  not  contention,  the  lover  of  mischief,  withhold  thee 

from  labor. 
While  in  the  market-place  thou  art  hearkening,  eager  for 

quarrels. 

Once   we    our   heritage   shared    already.     Cajoling   the 

rulers, — 
Men  who  were  greedy  for  bribes,   and  were  willing  to 

grant  you  the  judgment — 
You  then  plundered  and  carried  away  far  more  than  your 

portion. 
Fools  were  they,  unaware  how  the  whole  by  a  half  is 

exceeded : 
Little  they  know  how  great  is  the  blessing  with  mallow 

and  lentils. 

Truly  the  gods  keep  hid  from  mortals  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence ; 

Else  in  a  single  day  thou  mightst  well  win  from  thy  labor 

What  would  suffice  for  a  year,  although  thou  idle  remain- 
est. 

Ended  then  were  the  labors  of  toilsome  mules  and  of  oxen. 


4B  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Evil  he  worketh  himself  who  worketh  ill  to  another. 

But  remembering  still  my  injunction, 
Work,  O  Perses,  sprung  from  the  gods,  that  Famine  may 

ever 
Hate  you,  and  dear  may  you  be  to  Demeter  of  beautiful 

garlands — 
Awesome  one — and  still  may  she  fill  thy  gamers  with 

plenty. 

Work  is  no  disgrace;  but  the  shame  is,  not  to  be  working: 
If  you  but  work,  then  he  who  works  not  will  envy  you 

quickly. 
Seeing  your  wealth  increase ;  with  wealth  come  honor  and 

glory. 

Summon  the  man  who  loves  thee  to  banquet ;  thy  enemy 

bid  not. 
Summon  him  most  of  all  who  dwells  most  closely  beside 

thee; 
Since  if  all  that  is  strange  or  evil  chance  to  befall  thee, 
Neighbors  come  ungirt,  but  kinsmen  wait  to  be  girded. 

Take  your  fill  when  the  cask  is  broached,  and  when  it  is 

faihng. 
Midway  spare;  at  the  lees  it  is  not  worth  while  to  be 

sparing. 

Call — with  a   smile — for   a  witness,   although   'tis   your 
brother  you  deal  with. 

Get  thee  a  dwelling  first,  and  a  woman,  and  ox  for  the 

ploughing: 
Buy  thou  a  woman,  not  wed  her,  that  she  may  follow  the 

oxen. 

This  shall  remedy  be,  if  thou  art  belated  in  ploughing: 
When  in  the  leaves  of  the  oak  is  heard  the  voice  of  the 

cuckoo 
First,  that  across  the  unbounded  earth  brings  pleasure  to 

mortals. 


Hesiod*s  Works  and  Days  49 

Three  days  long  let  Zeus  pour  down  his  rains  without 

ceasing, 
So  that  the  ox-hoof's  print  it  fills,  yet  not  overflows  it. 
Then  may  the  ploughman  belated  be  equal  with  him  who 

was  timely. 

Pass  by  the  seat  at  the  forge,  and  the  well-warmed  tavern, 

in  winter. 
This  is  the  time  when  a  man  not  slothful  increases  his 

substance. 

Shun  thou  seats  in  the  shade,  nor  sleep  till  the  dawn  in  the 

season 
When  it  is  harvest  time,  and  your  skin  is  parched  in  the 

sunshine. 

Seek  thou  a  homeless  thrall,  and  a  serving-maid  who  is 
childless. 

Praise  thou  a  little  vessel;  bestow  thou  thy  goods  in  a 
large  one. 

Do  not  stow  in  the  hollowed  vessel  the  whole  of  thy  sub- 
stance; 

Leave  thou  more  behind,  and  carry  the  less  for  a  cargo. 

Hateful  it  is  to  meet  with  a  loss  on  the  watery  billows; 

Hateful  too  if,  loading  excessive  weight  on  a  wagon. 

Thou  shouldst  crush  thine  axle,  and  so  thy  burden  be 
wasted. 

Keep  thou  due  moderation;  all  things  have  a  fitting  occa- 
sion. 

(Closing   Lines) 

Different  men  praise  different  days:  they  are  rare  who  do 
know  them. 

Often  a  day  may  prove  as  a  stepmother,  oft  as  a  mother: 

Blessed  and  happy  is  he  who,  aware  of  all  that  concerns 
thee. 

Wisely  works  at  his  task,  unblamed  in  the  sight  of 
immortals. 

Judging  the  omens  aright,  and  succeeds  in  avoiding  trans- 
gression. 


50  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  rather  old-fashioned  metrical  versions  of  Hesiod's  two 
chief  works  by  Elton,  closer  and  more  recent  prose  versions,  and 
copious  notes,  are  all  contained  in  a  most  useful  volume  of  Bohn's 
Classical  Library.  The  metrical  extracts  here  given  appeared 
first  in  the  volume  "Successors  of  Homer,"  where  the  present 
writer's  fullest  treatment  of  Hesiod  will  be  found. 


CHAPTER   V 

LYRIC  POETRY 

Lyric  poetry  is  probably  the  earliest  form  of  literature. 
In  almost  any  race  or  clan,  the  war  chant,  marching 
chorus,  dirge,  rhythmic  prayer,  song  of  victory,  must  be 
needed,  and  created,  long  before  any  sustained  epic 
becomes  possible.  The  "IHad"  has  allusions  to  such 
earlier  songs  and  singers.  Yet  we  first  hear  of  actual 
Greek  lyric  poets,  by  name,  from  the  seventh  century  B.C. 
From  700  to  500  is  especially  the  lyric  epoch.  Compara- 
tively little  has  survived.  In  no  field  of  Greek  letters  are 
our  losses  so  fatal,  or  so  much  to  be  deplored.  A  few 
selections  from  this  and  later  periods  are  given  here, 
especially  those  that  touch  more  earnestly  the  chief  chords 
of  life.  A  great  part  of  the  little  lyrics  collected  in  the 
* 'Anthology"  are  anonymous,  and  most  of  them  are  also 
post-classical  in  date;  but  they  are  often  truly  Greek  in 
grace  and  finish. 

A  Patriot  Soldier 

Verily  glorious  is  it,  and  sweet,  to  contend  with  the  foe- 
man, 
Fighting  for  children  and  wife,  in  the  defence  of  our 
land. 
Holding  the  spear  on  high,  and  a  stout  heart  under  the 
buckler 
Throbbing,  when  at  the  first  cometh  the  shock  of  the 
fray. 

— KallinoSf  yoo  B.C. 

51 


52  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

A  Hero's  Choice 

How  glorious  fall  the  valiant,  sword  in  hand, 

In  front  of  battle  for  their  native  land! 

But  oh!  what  ills  await  the  wretch  that  yields, 

A  recreant  outcast  from  his  country's  fields! 

The  mother  whom  he  loves  shall  quit  her  home, 

An  aged  father  at  his  side  shall  roam; 

His  little  ones  shall  weeping  with  him  go. 

And  a  young  wife  participate  his  woe; 

While  scorned  and  scowled  upon  by  every  face. 

They  pine  for  food,  and  beg  from  place  to  place. 

Stain  of  his  breed!  dishonouring  manhood's  form. 

All  ills  shall  cleave  to  him,  affliction's  storm 

Shall  blind  him  wandering  in  the  vale  of  years. 

Till,  lost  to  all  but  ignominious  fears. 

He  shall  not  blush  to  leave  a  recreant's  name. 

And  children  hke  himself,  inured  to  shame. 

But  we  will  combat  for  our  father's  land. 

And  we  will  drain  the  lifeblood  where  we  stand. 

To  save  our  children: — fight  ye  side  by  side. 

And  serried  close,  ye  men  of  youthful  pride. 

Disdaining  fear,  and  dreaming  light  the  cost 

Of  life  itself  in  glorious  battle  lost. 

Leave  not  our  sires  to  stem  the  unequal  fight. 

Whose  limbs  are  nerved  no  more  with  buoyant  might ; 

Nor,  lagging  backward,  let  the  younger  breast 

Permit  the  man  of  age  (a  sight  unblest) 

To  welter  in  the  combat's  foremost  thrust. 

His  hoary  head  dishevelled  in  the  dust. 

And  venerable  bosom  bleeding  bare. 

But  youth's  fair  form,  though  fallen,  is  ever  fair. 

And  beautiful  in  death  the  boy  appears. 

The  hero  boy,  that  dies  in  blooming  years: 

In  man's  regret  he  lives,  and  woman's  tears,* 

More  sacred  than  in  life,  and  lovelier  far, 

For  having  perished  in  the  front  of  war. 

— Tyrtaeus,  6j^  B.C.     Translated  by  Campbell. 


Lyric  Poetry  53 

Crabbed  Age  and  Youth 
What's  life  or  pleasure  wanting  Aphrodite? 

When  to  the  gold-haired  goddess  cold  am  I, 
When  love  and  love's  soft  gifts  no  more  delight  me, 

Nor  stolen  dalliance,  then  I  fain  would  die. 
Ah!  fair  and  lovely  bloom  the  flowers  of  youth. 

On  men  and  maids  they  beautifully  smile : 
But  soon  comes  doleful  eld,  who,  void  of  ruth. 

Indifferently  afflicts  the  fair  and  vile; 
Then  cares  wear  out  the  heart;  old  eyes  forlorn 

Scarce  reck  the  very  sunshine  to  behold — 
Unloved  by  youths,  of  every  maid  the  scorn — 

So  hard  a  lot  God  lays  upon  the  old. 
— Mimnermus,  62 j  B.C.     Translated  by  J.  A.  SymondSj  Sr. 

A  Soldier  of  Fortune 
Gift  of  my  own  good  spear  is  the  wine  and  the  bread  well- 
kneaded. 
Leaning  upon  my  lance  quaff  I  Ismarian  wine. 
Bounden  servant  am  I  to  Enyalios,  ruler  of  battle : 
Yea,  and  the  Muses'  gift  glorious  know  I  as  well. 

— Ar:hilochus,  yth  century  B.C. 

An  Unconquerable  Soul 
Tossed  on  a  sea  of  troubles,  Soul,  my  Soul, 
Thyself  do  thou  control; 
And  to  the  weapons  of  advancing  foes 
A  stubborn  breast  oppose; 
Undaunted  'mid  the  hostile  might 
Of  squadrons  burning  for  the  fight. 
Thine  be  no  boasting  when  the  victor's  crown 
Wins  thee  deserved  renown; 
Thine  no  dejected  sorrow,  when  defeat 
Would  urge  a  base  retreat: 
Rejoice  in  joyous  things,  nor  overmuch 
Let  grief  thy  bosom  touch 
Midst  evil,  and  still  bear  in  mind 
How  changeful  are  the  ways  of  humankind. 

— Archilochus,  translated  by  Wm.  Hay. 


54  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

"He  Hath  Put  Down  the  Mighty" 

All  unto  the  Gods  are  subject:  often  out  of  wretchedness 
Mortal  men  do  they  uplift  who  on  the  black  earth  prostrate 

lie: 
Often  also  overturning  them  that  prosperously  march, 
Flat  upon  their  faces  lay  them 

A  Womanly  Retort 

Something  I  fain  would  utter,  yet  am  checked 
By  shame. 

But  if  your  wish  were  noble  or  virtuous. 
If  on  your  tongue  naught  ill  had  been  quivering, 
Then  shame  would  not  have  closed  your  eyeHds, 
Fitting  the  words  you  would  utter  fitly. 

—Alcceus  and  Sappho,  600  B.C. 

Motherlove 

I  have  a  child,  a  lovely  one. 

In  beauty  Hke  the  golden  sun, 

Or  like  sweet  flowers  that  earliest  bloom; 

And  Cleis  is  her  name,  for  whom 

I  Lydia's  treasures,  were  they  mine, 

Would  glad  resign. 

— Sappho.     Translated  by  Merivale. 

Eventide 

Oh  Hesperus !     Thou  bringest  all  things  home ; 
All  that  the  garish  day  hath  scattered  wide; 
The  sheep,  the  goat,  back  to  the  welcome  fold; 
Thou  bring'st  the  child,  too,  to  his  mother's  side. 
— Sappho.     Translated  by  Wm.  H.  Appleton. 

Two  Epitaphs  for  the  Three  Hundred  Heroes 
OF  Thermopyl^ 

Go,  tell  the  Spartans,  thou  that  passest  by. 
That  here  obedient  to  their  laws  we  die. 
— Simonides,  ^00  B.C.     Translated  by  7/ 


Lyric  Poetry  55 

Of  those  who  at  Thermopylae  were  slain, 

Glorious  the  doom,  and  beautiful  the  lot; 

Their  tomb  an  altar;  men  from  tears  refrain 

To  honour  them,  and  praise,  but  mourn  them  not. 

Such  sepulchre,  nor  drear  decay 

Nor  all-destroying  time  shall  waste;  this  right  have  they. 

Within  their  grave  the  home-bred  glory 

Of  Greece  was  laid:  this  witness  gives 

Leonidas  the  Spartan,  in  whose  story 

A  wreath  of  famous  virtue  ever  lives. 

— Simonides,     Translated  by  John  Stirling. 

Frailty  of  Man 

Hard  is  it  to  become  a  good  man  truly. 

Foursquare  in  heart  and  hands  and  feet, 

Without  a  fault,  complete. 
Methought  not  duly 

— Sage  though  he  was — Pittacos'  maxim  ran: 
"'Tis  hard"  quoth  he,  *'to  be  a  noble  man." 
Only  a  god  that  prize  may  win. 
Not  wholly  free  is  any  one  from  sin, 

For  desperate  disaster  smites  us  still. 
Each  man  is  virtuous  in  his  happy  hours, 

Evil  in  times  of  ill: 
So  most  the  mightiest  men,  dear  to  the  heavenly  powers. 

— Simonides. 

The  Passing  Hour 

Take  thy  delight,  my  soul;  another  day 
Another  race  shall  see,  and  I  be  breathless  clay. 
Vain  mortals,  and  unwise !  who  mourn  the  hour 
Of  death,  not  that  of  youth's  departing  flower. 
For  all,  whom  once  the  earth  hath  covered  o'er. 
Go  down  to  Erebus'  unjoyous  shore. 
Delight  no  more  to  hear  the  lyre's  soft  sound. 
Nor  pass  the  jocund  cups  of  Bacchus  round. 
So  thou,  my  soul,  shalt  revel  at  thy  will. 
While  light  is  yet  my  hand,  my  head  untrembling  still 
— Theognisj  540  B.C.     Translated  by  H.  H.  Milman. 


56  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

The  Best  of  Blessings 

The  best  of  gifts  to  mortal  man  is  health; 

The  next  the  bloom  of  beauty's  matchless  flower; 
The  third  is  blameless  and  unfraudful  wealth; 

The  fourth  to  waste  with  friends  youth's  joyful  hour. 

— Anonymous. 

The  Gifts  of  Peace 

To  mortal  men  peace  giveth  these  good  things: 
Wealth  and  the  flowers  of  honey-throated  song; 

The  flame  that  springs 
On  carven  altars  from  fat  sheep  and  kine, 

Slain  to  the  gods  in  heaven;  and,  all  day  long, 
Games  for  glad  youths,  and  flutes,  and  wreaths,  and 

circling  wine. 
Then  in  the  steely  shield  swart  spiders  weave 

Their  web  and  dusky  woof: 
Rust  to  the  pointed  spear  and  sword  doth  cleave; 
The  brazen  trump  sounds  no  alarms; 

Nor  is  sleep  harried  from  our  eyes  aloof. 
But  with  sweet  rest  my  bosom  warms: 
The  streets  are  thronged  with  lovely  men  and  young. 
And  hymns  in  praise  of  boys  like  flames  to  heaven  are 
flung. 

— Bacchylides,  450  B.C.     Translated  by  J.  A.  Symonds. 

Lover's  Bliss 

Sweet  in  summer  is  snow  for  the  thirsty  drink;  for  the 

sailor 
After  the  winter  is  past,  sweet  is  the  garland  of  spring: 
Sweetest  of   all  when  two   underneath   one  mantle   are 

sheltered, 
While  by  the  twain  at  once  told  is  the  story  of  love. 

— From  the  Anthology. 

The  miscellaneous  collection  of  brief  poems  known  as 


Lyric  Poetry  57 

the  Greek  Anthology  is  evidently  gathered  from  many 
centuries  of  Hellenic  song.  So  too  the  lighter  verses 
known  as  the  Anacreontics  were  composed  by  various 
later  imitators  of  the  real  Anacreon,  who  sang  of  wine, 
passion,  and  song  in  the  sixth  century  B.C. 

The  Cicada 

Happy  insect!  what  can  be 

In  happiness  compared  to  thee.? 

Fed  with  nourishment  divine. 

The  dewy  morning's  gentle  wine! 

Nature  waits  upon  thee  still, 

And  thy  verdant  cup  does  fill; 

'Tis  filled  wherever  thou  dost  tread. 

Nature's  self's  thy  Ganymede. 

Thou  dost  drink,  and  dance,  and  sing; 

Happier  than  the  happiest  king! 

All  the  fields  which  thou  dost  see, 
;  All  the  plants,  belong  to  thee; 

I  All  that  summer  hours  produce, 

;  Fertile  made  with  early  juice. 

Man  for  thee  does  sow  and  plow; 

Farmer  he,  and  landlord  thou! 
•  Thou  dost  innocently  joy; 

Nor  does  thy  luxury  destroy; 

The  shepherd  gladly  heareth  thee. 

More  harmonious  than  he. 

Thee  country  hinds  with  gladness  hear. 

Prophet  of  the  ripened  year! 

Thee  Phoebus  loves,  and  does  inspire; 

Phoebus  is  himself  thy  sire. 
\  To  thee,  of  all  things  upon  Earth, 

!  Life's  no  longer  than  thy  mirth. 

i  Happy  insect,  happy  thou! 

Dost  neither  age  nor  winter  know; 

But  when  thou'st  drunk,  and  danced,  and  sung 

Thy  fill,  the  flowery  leaves  among. 


58  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

(Voluptuous,  and  wise  withal, 
Epicurean  animal!) 
Sated  with  thy  summer  feast, 
Thou  retir'st  to  endless  rest. 

— Cowley s  translation. 

Greek  lyric  culminated  in  Pindar,  a  Theban  poet  who 
lived  through  the  Persian  wars.  His  chief  contemporary 
rivals  were  the  two  great  poets  born  in  the  island  of  Keos, 
Simonides  and  Bacchyhdes,  uncle  and  nephew.  All 
three  wrote,  as  a  rule,  not  very  brief  personal  lyrics,  but 
sustained  poems  for  choral  performance.  From  Simon- 
ides we  have  only  fragments,  or  short  complete  poems, 
such  as  were  quoted  above.  Of  Pindar's  work  we  pos- 
sess one  large  section,  those  choral  songs,  namely,  that 
immortalize  athletic  victors  in  any  of  the  four  great 
national  contests,  the  most  famous  of  all  being  the  quad- 
rennial Olympic  games.  All  such  strife  for  excellence 
and  victory  was  accounted  especially  pleasing  to  the  gods. 

Beside  these  eighty  Pindaric  odes,  a  happy  discovery 
in  Egypt  set,  a  few  years  ago,  a  score  of  Bacchylides' 
chief  poems.  Curiously  enough,  of  these  also  fourteen 
are  **Epinikia,"  songs  for  the  triumph  of  athletes.  Our 
own  athletic  revival  in  recent  years  gives  an  especial  inter- 
est to  this  phase  of  Greek  Hfe. 

Pindar's  most  famous  prelude  runs: 

As  he  that  with  a  lavish  hand  a  cup  doth  lift 
Plashing  with  dew  of  grapes  within, 
And  proffers  it,  a  gift. 
To  him  who  newly  with  his  child  is  wed: 
A  pledge  from  home  to  home  'tis  sped. 
All-golden,  of  his  treasure  the  most  choice, 
Wherewith  the  banquet  shall  rejoice. 
And  honors  so  his  kin, — 


Lyric  Poetry  59 

Because  the  youth  is  made  among  his  friends 
Envied  for  marriage  that  such  largess  sends, — 
So  I  the  outpoured  nectar  which  the  Muses  gave, 
Sweet  fruitage  of  the  poet's  soul,  my  lay, 
Sending  to  them  that  bear  the  prize  away. 
Honor  the  heroes  brave 
Who  at  Olympia  and  Pytho  win. 

As  to  the  dignity  of  his  own  task  Pindar  has  no  doubts. 

His   masterpiece,   the    first   *' Olympian,"    ends  with 

these  proud  words  to  Hiero,  the  great  lord  of  Syracuse: 

Men  in  various  paths  are  great: 

By  kings  the  crest  supreme  is  won;  look  not  beyond. 

Be  thine  aloft  to  tread  thy  space  of  time. 

Mine  ever  with  the  victors  to  commune. 

Myself  among  Hellenes  everywhere 

For  skill  in  song  illustrious. 

The  occasion  of  all  this  proud  and  lofty  utterance  is 
merely  the  victory  of  a  saddle  horse  from  Hiero's  stables! 

It  would  be  doubly  interesting  if  we  could  gather  from 
these  poets  a  truthful  picture  of  such  national  Greek  con- 
tests early  in  the  glorious  fifth  century  B.C.  Each  ode  is 
largely  taken  up,  however,  with  praise  of  the  victor's 
ancestors  or  native  city,  and  with  a  myth  whose  appli- 
cation we  can  usually  only  surmise.  We  do  gain,  at  least, 
a  lively  general  impression  of  the  religious  and  patriotic 
fervor,  the  enthusiastic  eagerness  for  success,  displayed 
in  these  contests.  Statues,  gifts  of  money  and  other 
treasures,  political  and  social  distinction  in  the  home 
city,  were  showered  on  the  successful  athlete.  Yet  the 
poet  seems  not  to  doubt  that  his  own  song  is  the  most 
precious  boon  of  all. 

There  is,  however,  no  one  of  these  songs  for  victors 


6o  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

which  seems  to  make  full  and  direct  appeal  to  alien  men. 
We  can  more  fully  enjoy  a  poem  evidently  composed  for 
an  Athenian  audience,  embodying  one  phase  of  that  most 
famous  Attic  tale,  the  Theseus-myth.  In  its  own  fashion, 
or  rather  under  true  Hellenic  forms,  it  seems  to  touch  on 
the  fatherhood  of  the  divinity,  the  certainty  of  answer  to 
the  prayer  of  undoubting  faith. 

Athens  is  supposed,  at  the  epoch  here  indicated,  to  be 
helpless  under  the  wrath  of  her  overlord  Minos  of  Crete, 
and  is  compelled  to  send  annual  tribute  of  noble  youths 
and  maidens,  to  be  devoured  by  the  monster  Minotaur  in 
the  famous  labyrinth.  Prince  Theseus  volunteers  to  share, 
or  avert,  their  doom.  The  intended  victims  are  here  de- 
scribed as  voyaging  toward  Crete  on  board  the  tyrant's 
own  ship,  when  a  new  lawless  caprice  seizes  on  him. 
The  courage  of  Prince  Theseus  on  this  occasion  fore- 
shadows his  success  in  saving  his  comrades,  and  releasing 
Athens  from  the  hateful  tribute. 

The  Youths,  or  Theseus 
Bacchylides 
The  vessel  with  the  purple  prow  that  bore 
The  steadfast  Theseus  and  twice  seven  with  him, 
Beautiful  youths  and  maids  Ionian, 
Was  cutting  Cretan  waters;  for  the  gusts 
Of  Boreas,  sent  by  the  illustrious 
Athene  of  the  warring  aegis,  ^  fell 
On  the  far- shining  sail.     Then  the  dread  boon 
Of  fair-crowned  Cypris^  smote  King  Minos*  heart. 
His  hand  no  more  he  from  the  maid  withheld. 
But  touched  her  pale  cheeks.     Eriboia  then 
Upon  Pandion's'  gallant  offspring  called. 

iThe  divine  shield  borne  by  Pallas  Athene  in  battle. 
2 Aphrodite.  Her  dangerous  gift  is  passionate  love. 
sPandion  was  an  ancestor  of  Theseus. 


Lyric  Poetry  6 1 

Theseus  beheld  it.     Underneath  his  brow 

Dark  rolled  his  eye,  his  heart  within  was  gnawed 

By  pain  unbearable;  and  thus  he  spake: 

''Son  of  high  Zeus,  no  more  a  righteous  heart 

Thou  rulest  in  thy  breast!  Hero,  abstain 

From  violence.     Whatever  from  the  gods 

On  us  resistless  Destiny  bestows. 

And  Justice  in  her  balance  weigheth  out. 

We  will  endure,  when  doom  appointed  comes; 

But  thou,  restrain  thy  soul  from  lawless  deeds. 

Although  of  men  the  mightiest,  and  born 

By  Phoenix's  fair-named  daughter  underneath 

The  crest  of  Ida, — and  of  Zeus  begot: 

Yet  wealthy  Pittheus'  daughter's  child  am  I, 

She  with  Poseidon,  the  sea's  lord,  did  wed,^ 

And  dark-tressed  Nereids  gave  her  golden  veil. 

And  therefore,  warlord  thou  of  Gnossian  men, 

I  bid  thee  check  thy  grievous  insolence. 

May  I  behold  no  more  the  light  divine 

Of  lovely  dawn,  if  thou  unwelcome  hand 

On  one  among  our  youthful  band  shalt  lay. 

Rather  will  we  our  strength  of  arm  show  forth. 

— The  issue  the  divinity  shall  judge." 

So  spake  the  hero,  valiant  with  the  spear. 
At  his  audacious  courage  stood  amazed 
The  sailors,  wrath  was  in  the  heart  of  him 
That  wedded  Helios'  daughter.^     Then  he  planned 
A  strange  device,  and  thus  he  spoke: 

"O  Zeus, 
Omnipotent,  my  father,  if  in  truth 
White-armed  Phoenissa  bare  me  unto  thee, 
Send  now  from  Heaven  an  undoubted  sign. 
Thy  lightning  fiery-maned! — 

And  if  thee,  too, 
Unto  Poseidon  shaker  of  the  world 
Troezenian  ^thra  did  indeed  conceive, 

1  Theseus,  as  son  of  Poseidon,  claims  to  be  of  nearly  equal  birth  with  Minos, 
the  son  of  Zeus. 

2  Minos  had  married  Pasiphae,  daughter  of  Helios  the  sungod. 


62  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Then  cast  thee  boldly  to  thy  father's  halls, 
And  from  the  deep  sea  fetch  this  golden  ring! 
Thou'lt  know  if  Kronos*  son,  the  thunder's  lord. 
The  monarch  over  all,  hath  heard  my  prayer." 

That  haughty  prayer  by  Zeus  supreme  was  heard, 
And  wondrous  honor  he  to  Minos  gave. 
Sending  his  child  a  signal  clear  to  all. 
He  flashed  the  lightning;  and  his  son  beheld 
The  welcome  marvel:  toward  the  Heaven  aloft 
Both  hands  he  raised, — and  unto  Theseus  thus 
The  hero,  steadfast  in  the  combat,  spake: 
''Theseus,  thou  seest  the  undoubted  sign 
Of  Zeus;  and  thou,  to  the  deep- roaring  sea 
Betake  thee,  if  thy  father,  Kronos'  son 
As  well,  accord  thee  honor  more  than  all 
That  dwell  on  fertile  earth." 

Such  were  his  words. 
The  Athenian's  gallant  heart  was  nowise  quelled. 
On  the  firm  deck  he  took  his  stand,  and  plunged. 
While  eagerly  the  waters  welcomed  him. 
Then  melted  was  the  son  of  Zeus  in  heart. 
And  bade  them  keep  before  the  wind  the  ship 
Fair- wrought. 

The  Fates  devised  another  way. 
Swift  fared  the  vessel  forward,  and  the  blast 
Of  Boreas  from  behind  her  drove  her  on. 
As  seaward  leaped  the  hero,  terror  fell 
On  all  the  band  of  young  Athenians : 
The  tears  were  flowing  from  their  tender  eyes, 
The  while  they  waited  for  the  heavy  doom. 

By  dolphins,  dwellers  in  the  briny  sea. 
Great  Theseus  toward  his  knightly  father's  hall 
Was  borne,  and  to  the  gods'  abode  he  came. 
There  he  famed  Nereus'  glorious  daughters  ^  saw 
With  fear;  for  from  their  bodies  splendor  rayed 
Firelike,  and  golden  were  the  snoods  that  waved 
About  their  locks.     Then  with  their  supple  feet 

> The  sea  nymphs. 


Lyric  Poetry  6^ 

They  made  his  heart  delighted  as  they  danced. 

He  saw  his  father's  large-eyed  stately  wife, 

Dear  Amphitrite,  in  her  lovely  halls. 

A  purple  mantle  she  did  put  on  him, 

And  on  his  curling  locks  a  faultless  wreath. 

With  roses  dark,  that  on  her  wedding  day 

From  crafty  Aphrodite  she  received. 

Whatever  gods  accomplish  is,  to  men 
Endowed  with  sense,  nowise  incredible. 
Beside  the  shapely  vessel  he  appeared! 
The  Gnossian  chieftain's  haughty  hopes  were  crushed. 
When  from  the  stainless  sea  he  issued  forth. 
To  all  a  marvel!     Bright  about  his  form 
The  gifts  of  gods  were  gleaming.     Then  the  maids. 
Enthroned  in  beauty,  raised  a  joyous  cry 
In  new- won  happiness:  the  waters  roared; 
His  youthful  comrades  gathered  to  his  side 
And  with  sweet  voices  sang  a  hymn  of  praise. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

This  is  not  a  subject  which  can  be  very  profitably  pursued  by 
the  unaided  student  in  English.  For  many  excellent  versions  see 
Appleton's  "Greek  'Poetry  in  English  Verse,"  and  Symonds* 
"Greek  Poets."  For  Sappho,  see  the  beautiful  volume  of  Whar- 
ton, containing  every  fragment,  with  one  or  more  translations  of 
each.  Theognis  has  been  all  too  ingeniously  rendered  and  recon- 
structed by  Frere  (Bohn  Library).  For  Pindar  there  is  a  good 
prose  version  by  Myers,  and  various  older  verse  translations,  from 
Gilbert  West  in  1749  to  Moberly's  and  Morice's  in  1876.  The 
magnificent  rendering  of  the  first  Pythian  ode  contributed  by  Pro- 
fessor A.  G.  Newcomer  to  the  "Library  of  the  World's  Best 
Literature,"  is,  we  believe,  but  a  foretaste  of  a  most  desirable 
larger  undertaking.  The  enjoyable  poems  of  Bacchylides  are 
partially  presented,  in  prose,  in  a  thin  volume  by  E.  Poste. 


CHAPTER  VI 

iESCHYLUS  AND  THE  PROMETHEUS 
The  Heroism  of  Endurance. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  (in  490  and 
480-79  B.C.)  Athens  twice  played  a  leading  part  in 
repelling  the  invading  Persians.  With  her  poHtical 
superiority  came  a  still  more  decided  preeminence  in 
literature  and  art.  Before  Pindar  and  Bacchylides  died, 
Attic  tragedy  arose.  The  careers  of  the  three  chief  tragic 
poets  are  wholly  included  in  the  fifth  century  B.C. 

In  all  Greek  drama,  it  is  essential  to  remember,  the 
choral  songs  are  the  oldest  element,  the  acting  is  an  inno- 
vation, -^schylus,  by  adding  a  second  actor,  made 
possible  a  dialogue  in  which  not  even  the  leader  of  the 
chorus  took  a  share.  The  whole  performance  was  but  a 
portion  of  a  spring  festival  in  honor  of  Bacchus  or  Diony- 
sus, the  favorite  nature-god,  and  probably  had  little 
artistic  or  religious  seriousness  until  ^schylus  became  its 
master.  Three  competing  poets  offered  each  four  plays, 
three  tragedies  with  a  lighter  after-piece,  ^schylus 
usually,  perhaps  always,  made  the  three — or  even  the 
four — plays  parts  of  one  great  mythic  action.  The  sub- 
jects are  regularly  drawn  from  the  legends  of  a  remote 
and  fabulous  past. 

We  have  extant,  for  example,  his  three  tragedies:  on 
the  murder  of  the  home-returning  Agamemnon,  with  the 
deadly  vengeance  wreaked,  years  later,  on  his  wife  and 

64 


iEschylus  and  the  Prornetheus  65 

her  lover,  by  the  young  Orestes,  and  the  final  absolution 
of  the  latter  from  the  guilt  of  matricide.  So  the  three 
generations  of  King  CEdipus'  unhappy  line  made  the  three 
dramas  of  the  Theban  trilogy,  though  only  one  of  these 
three  plays  survives. 

Of  the  three,  or  four,  Prometheus  plays  it  is  clearly  the 
first  that  has  come  down  to  us.  The  fearless  rebel,  the 
stoical  sufferer,  the  tortured  divine  friend  of  man,  has 
always  excited  the  warmest  sympathy.  Yet  we  know  that 
^schylus  depicted  also,  in  the  later  dramas  of  the  series, 
his  complete  submission  and  confession  of  error.  Indeed, 
the  strength,  the  wisdom,  the  complete  supremacy  of  Zeus, 
even  his  large  benignant  purposes,  for  men  as  well  as  for 
gods,  must  have  been  fully  vindicated,  ^schylus  was 
quite  too  large-minded,  and  too  devout,  to  see  any  chaotic 
or  capricious  element  in  the  divine  government  of  the 
world.  Even  in  this  first  play,  Prometheus  has  the  sym- 
pathy, but  not  the  approval,  of  every  other  character. 
Even  lo,  the  homeless  wanderer,  is  to  be  more  than 
repaid  for  all  her  suffering,  for  through  it  the  coming  of 
her  descendant  Heracles,  the  deliverer  of  man  and  even 
of  divine  Prometheus,  shall  be  made  possible. 

The  play  requires  only  two  actors,  an  indication  of 
early  date.  In  the  first  scene  Force  is  a  mute,  and  Prome- 
theus, also  silent,  is  probably  a  wooden  image.  One  of 
the  actors  could  climb  up  behind  this  figure  and  speak  his 
part  in  the  later  scenes. 


66  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

PROMETHEUS  BOUND 

Prologue 
Heph^estos,  the  Smith-god,  enters,  followed  by  Strength 
and  Force  dragging  Prometheus 
Strength 

To  Earth's  remotest  plain  we  now  are  come. 
To  Scythia's  confine,  an  untrodden  waste. 
Hephaestos!     Thou  the  mandates  must  observe 
Enjoin'd  thee  by  thy  sire;  this  miscreant 
'Gainst  lofty-beethng  rocks  to  clasp  in  fetters 
Of  adamantine  bonds,  unbreakable. 
For  that  the  splendor  of  all- working  fire. 
Thy  proper  flower,  he  stole  and  gave  to  mortals. 
Such  crime  he  to  the  gods  must  expiate; 
So  may  he  learn  the  sovereignty  of  Zeus 
To  bear,  and  cease  from  mortal-loving  wont. 

HEPHiESTOS 

Ho!  Strength  and  Force,  for  you  the  word  of  Zeus 

Its  goal  hath  reached,  no  obstacle  remains; 

But  I  of  daring  lack,  a  brother  god 

Fast  to  this  storm-vexed  cleft  perforce  to  bind. 

Yet  so  to  dare  is  sheer  necessity; 

For  grievous  'tis  the  father's  words  to  slight. 

(To  Prometheus) 

Right-judging  Themis'  lofty-thoughted  son. 
Thee  'gainst  thy  will  must  I  unwilling  nail 
With  stubborn  shackles  to  this  desert  height. 
Where  neither  voice  nor  form  of  living  man 
Shall  meet  thy  ken;  but,  shrivelled  by  the  blaze 
Of  the  bright  sun,  thy  skin's  fair  bloom  shall  wither; 
Welcome  to  thee  shall  glittering-vestured  night 
O'erveil  the  brightness;  welcome,  too,  the  sun 
Shall  with  new  beams  scatter  the  morning  rime; 
Thus  evermore  shall  weight  of  present  ill 


^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  67 

Outwear  thee :  for  as  yet  is  no  one  born 
Who  may  relieve  thy  pain:  such  meed  hast  thou 
From  mortal-loving  wont: — for  thou,  a  god, 
Not  crouching  to  the  wrath  of  gods,  didst  bring 
To  mortal  men  high  gifts,  transgressing  right. 
Hence  shalt  thou  sentinel  this  joyless  rock, 
Erect,  unsleeping,  bending  not  the  knee; 
And  many  a  moan  shalt  pour  and  many  a  plaint. 
Vainly;  for  Zeus  obdurate  is  of  heart; 
And  harsh  is  every  one  when  new  of  sway. 

Strength 

Let  be!     Why  dally  and  vain  pity  vent? 
This  god,  to  gods  most  hateful,  why  not  hate, 
Who  thy  prerogative  to  men  betrayed? 

Heph^stos 
Awful  is  kindred  blood  and  fellowship. 

Strength 

True,  but  the  father's  word  to  disobey — 

How  may  that  be?     Fearest  not  that  still  more? 

Heph^estos 
Alas!  My  much-detested  handicraft! 

Strength 

Why  hate  thy  craft?  for,  sooth  to  say,  thine  art 
Is  no  way  guilty  of  these  present  woes. 

HEPaESTOS 

Yet  would  that  it  to  other  hand  had  fallen. 

Strength 
All  save  o'er  gods  to  rule,  vexatious  is, 
For  none  is  free,  save  father  Zeus  alone. 

Heph^stos 
Too  well  I  know  it:  answer  have  I  none. 

or  -HE 
UNIVCRSITY 

OF 
dLlFORNXfcs 


68  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strength 

Haste  then:  around  the  culprit  cast  these  bonds 
Lest  father  Zeus  behold  thee  loitering. 

Heph^stos 
Behold  the  shackles  ready  here  for  use. 

Strength 

Cast  them  around  his  hands:  with  mighty  force 
Smite  with  the  hammer,  nail  him  to  the  rocks. 

Heph^stos 
The  work  so  far  is  finished;  not  amiss. 

Strength 

Strike  harder  yet:  clench  fast:  be  nowhere  slack. 
His  wit  will  find  a  way  where  no  way  is. 

HEPH.ESTOS 

This  arm,  at  least,  is  fast  beyond  escape. 

Strength 

This  too  clamp  firmly  down:  so  may  he  learn. 
Shrewd  though  he  be,  he  duller  is  than  Zeus. 

HEPHiESTOS 

No  one  but  he  could  justly  censure  me. 
Strength 

Of  adamantine  wedge  the  stubborn  fang 

Straight  through  his  breast  now  drive,  right  sturdily. 

HEPHiESTOS 

Like  to  thy  shape  the  utterance  of  thy  tongue. 

Strength 

Be  thou  soft-hearted:  but  upbraid  not  me 
For  stubborn  will  and  ruggedness  of  heart. 


iEschylus  and  the  Prometheus  69 

Heph^estos 
Let  us  begone;  his  limbs  are  iron-meshed. 

Strength  (to  Prometheus) 
Here  taunt  away,  and  the  gods'  honours  filching, 
Bestow  on  creatures  of  a  day;  from  thee 
How  much  can  mortals  of  these  woes  drain  off? 
Thee  falsely  do  the  gods  Prometheus  name, 
For  a  Prometheus  thou  thyself  dost  need. 
To  plan  releasement  from  this  handiwork. 

{Exeunt  Heph^stos,  Strength,  and  Force). 

Prometheus 
Oh  holy  ether,  swiftly-winged  gales. 
Fountains  of  rivers  and  of  ocean-waves 
Innumerable  laughter,  general  mother  Earth, 
And  orb  all-seeing  of  the  sun,  I  call : 
Behold  what  I,  a  god,  from  gods  endure. 

See,  wasted  by  what  pains 
Wrestle  I  must  while  myriad  time  shall  flow! 
Such  ignominious  chains 
Hath  he  who  newly  reigns. 
Chief  of  the  blest,  devised  against  me.     Woe! 
Ah  woe !  the  torture  of  the  hour 
I  wail,  ay,  and  of  anguish'd  throes 
The  future  dower. 

How,  when,  shall  rise  a  limit  to  these  woes.? 

And  yet  what  say  I?  clearly  I  foreknow 

All  that  must  happen;  nor  can  woe  betide 

Stranger  to  me;  the  Destined  it  behooves. 

As  best  I  may,  to  bear,  for  well  I  wot 

How  incontestable  the  strength  of  Fate. 

Yet  in  such  strait  silence  to  keep  is  hard 

Hard  not  to  keep; — for,  bringing  gifts  to  mortals. 

Myself  in  these  constraints  hapless  am  yoked. 

Stored  within  hollow  wand  fire's  stealthy  fount 

I  track,  which  to  mankind  in  every  art. 

Hath  teacher  proved,  and  mightiest  resource. 


yo  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Such  forfeits  I  for  such  offences  pay,— 
Beneath  the  welkin  nailed  in  manacles. 

Hist!  Hist!  what  sound 
What  odour  floats  invisibly  around, 
Of  God,  or  man,  or  intermediate  kind? 

Comes  to  this  rocky  bound, 
One  to  behold  my  woes,  or  seeking  aught? 
A  god  ye  see  in  fetters,  anguish  fraught; 
The  foe  of  Zeus,  in  hatred  held  of  all 
The  deities  who  throng  Zeus'  palace-hall; 
For  that  to  men  I  bore  too  fond  a  mind. 
Woe,  woe !  what  rustling  sound 
Hard  by,  as  if  of  birds,  doth  take  mine  ear? 

Whistles  the  ether  round 
With  the  light  whirr  of  pinions  hovering  near. 
Whate'er  approaches  filleth  me  with  fear. 

(Enter  chorus  of  Ocean  Nymphs  borne  in  a  winghd  car.) 

Chorus 

Fear  not !     A  friendly  troop  we  reach 
On  rival-speeding  wind  this  cliff  forlorn; 
Our  sire's  consent  wringing  by  suasive  speech, 
Me  swift-escorting  gales  have  hither  borne. 
For  iron's  clanging  note 
Piercing  our  caves'  recesses  rang. 
And  bashful  shyness  from  me  smote; — 
Forthwith  on  winged  car,  unshod,  aloft  I  sprang. 

Prometheus 

Alas!     Alas!     Woe!     Woe! 
Prolific  Tythys'  offspring,  progeny 
Of  sire  Oceanos,  whose  sleepless  flow 
All  the  wide  earth  encircles!  gaze  and  see 
Bound  with  what  fetters,  ignominiously, 
I,  on  the  summit  of  this  rock-bound  steep, 

Shall  watch  unenvied  keep. 


-^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  71 

Chorus 

I  see,  Prometheus,  and  through  fear 
Doth  mist  of  many  tears  mine  eyes  bedew, 
As,  'gainst  this  rock,  parched  up,  in  tortures  drear, 
Of  adamantine  bonds,  thy  form  I  view. 
For  helmsmen  new  of  sway 
Olympos  hold;  by  laws  new-made 
Zeus  wieldeth  empire,  impulse-swayed; 
The  mighty  ones  of  old  he  sweeps  away. 

Prometheus 

'Neath  earth,  'neath  Hades'  shade-receiving  plains, 
Sheer  down  to  Tartaros'  unmeasured  gloom 
Would  he  had  hurled  me  ruthless,  bound  with  chains 
That  none  may  loose;-— So  then  at  this  my  doom 
Had  no  one  mock'd, — nor  god,    nor  other  kind. 
But  now  most  wretched,  sport  of  every  wind, 
Foes  triumph  o'er  my  pains. 

Chorus 

Who  of  the  gods  a  heart  doth  own 

So  hard,  to  mock  at  thy  despair? 

Who  at  thy  woes,  save  Zeus  alone. 

Doth  not  thine  anguish  share? 

But  ruthless  still,  with  soul  unbent, 
The  heavenly  race  he  tames,  nor  will  refrain 

Till  sated  to  his  heart's  content; 
Or  till  another,  by  some  cunning  snare 
Wrest  from  his  grasp  the  firmly-guarded  reign. 

Prometheus 

Yet  e'en  of  me  although  now  wrung 
In  stubborn  chains  shall  he  have  need. 
This  ruler  of  the  blest — to  read 
The  counsel  new,  by  which  his  sway 
And  honours  shall  be  stript  away. 
But  not  persuasion's  honied  tongue 


72  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

My  steadfast  soul  shall  charm; 
Nor  will  I,  crouching  in  alarm, 
Divulge  the  secret,  till  these  savage  chains 
He  loose,  and  yield  requital  for  my  pains. 

Chorus 

Daring  thou  art,  and  yieldest  nought 

For  bitter  agony;  with  tongue 

Unbridled  thou  art  all  too  free. 

But  by  keen  fear  my  heart  is  stung; 

I  tremble  for  thy  doom — ah,  me ! 
Thy  barque  into  what  haven  may'st  thou  steer. 

Of  these  dire  pangs  the  end  to  see? 
For  inaccessible,  of  mood  severe 
Is  Kronos'  son,  inflexible  his  thought. 

FIRST  EPISODE 

Prometheus 

That  Zeus  is  stern  full  well  I  know 
And  by  his  will  doth  measure  right . 
But,  smitten  by  this  destined  blow, 
Softened  shall  one  day  be  his  might. 
Then  curbing  his  harsh  temper,  he 
Full  eagerly  will  hither  wend, 
To  join  in  league  and  amity  with  me, 
Eager  no  less  to  welcome  him  as  friend. 

Chorus 

To  us  thy  tale  unfold,  the  whole  speak  out; 
Upon  what  charge  Zeus,  seizing  thee,  doth  thus 
Outrage  with  harsh  and  ignominious  pain? 
Inform  us,  if  the  teUing  breed  no  harm. 

Prometheus 

Grievous  to  me  it  is  these  things  to  tell. 

Grief  to  be  silent;  trouble  every  way. 

When  first  the  heavenly  powers  were  moved  to  rage, 


-^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  73 

And  in  opposing  factions  ranged  their  might, 

These  wishing  Kronos  from  his  seat  to  hurl 

That  Zeus  forsooth  might  reign;  these,  counterwise. 

Resolved  that  o'er  the  gods  Zeus>  ne'er  should  rule; 

Then  I  with  sagest  counsel  strove  to  move 

The  Titans,^  progeny  of  Heaven  and  Earth, 

But  strove  in  vain,  for  they,  in  stubborn  souls 

Of  crafty  wiles  disdainful,  thought  by  force. 

An  easy  task,  the  mastery  to  gain. 

But  me,  not  once,  but  oft,  my  mother  Themis, 

And  Earth  (one  shape  with  many  names)  had  told 

Prophetic,  how  the  future  should  be  wrought: 

That  not  by  strength  of  thew  or  hardiment 

Should  mastery  be  compassed,  but  by  guile ; 

But  when  this  lore  I  did  expound  in  words. 

They  deigned  me  not  a  single  look,  whereon. 

Of  courses  free  to  choose,  the  wisest  seemed 

Leagued  with  my  mother,  of  my  own  free  will 

The  will  of  Zeus  to  meet,  siding  with  him. 

And  by  my  counsels  black-roofed  Tartaros* 

Murky  abyss  primeval  Kronos  now 

Engulfs  with  his  allies.     Such  benefits 

From  me  the  tyrant  of  the  gods  received. 

And  hath  requited  with  these  base  returns. 

For,  some  way  cleaveth  aye  to  tyranny 

This  fell  disease:  to  have  no  faith  in  friends. ^ 

But  touching  now  your  question,  on  what  charge 

He  thus  maltreats  me;  this  will  I  make  clear. 

When  seated  on  his  father's  throne,  forthwith. 

He  to  the  several  gods  was  dealing  out 

Their  several  honours,  marshalling  out  his  realm; 

But  he  of  toil-worn  mortals  took  no  count ; 

The  race  entire  he  ardently  desired 

To  quench,  and  plant  a  new  one  in  its  stead. 

1  These  are  the  brothers  of  Kronos;  one  of  them,  Oceanus,  appears  in  a 
later  scene.  The  rest  have  been  imprisoned  ever  since  the  war  here  men- 
tioned. As  Kronos  had  led  in  the  assault  on  his  own  father,  Ouranos  or 
Heaven,  so  he  is  now  dethroned  by  his  son  Zeus. 

2 Such  sentiments  of  course  appealed  to  the  democratic  audieqce  in  the 
A  t.)ienian  theatre. 


74  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

And  none  but  I  opposed  his  purposes; 
I  dared  alone; — I  saved  the  mortal  race 
From  sinking  blasted  down  to  Hades*  gloom. 
For  this  by  these  dire  tortures  I  am  bent, 
Grievous  to  suffer,  piteous  to  behold. 
I  who  did  mortals  pity,  of  like  grace 
Am  deem'd  unworthy, — But  am  grimly  thus 
Tuned  to  his  will,  a  sight  of  shame  to  Zeus. 

Chorus 

Iron  of  heart,  ay,  fashioned  out  of  rock 
Who  at  thy  pangs  thine  anger  shareth  not, 
Prometheus;  for  myself,  fain  had  I  shunned 
This  sight; — beholding  it,  my  heart  is  wrung. 

Prometheus 
To  friends,  in  sooth,  a  spectacle  of  woe. 

Chorus 
But  beyond  this  didst  haply  aught  essay? 

Prometheus 
Mortals  I  hindered  from  foreseeing  death. 

Chorus 
Finding  what  medicine  for  this  disease? 

Prometheus 
Blind  hopes  I  caused  within  their  hearts  to  dwell. 

Chorus 
Vast  boon  was  this  thou  gavest  unto  mortals. 

Prometheus 
Yea,  and  besides  'twas  I  that  gave  them  fire. 


^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  75 

Chorus 
Have  now  these  short-lived  creatures  flame-eyed  fire? 

Prometheus 
Ay,  and  by  it  full  many  arts  will  learn. 

Chorus 

Upon  such  charges  doth  Zeus  outrage  thee, " 

Nor  aught  abateth  of  thy  miseries? 

To  this  dire  struggle  is  no  term  assigned? 

« 

Prometheus 
No  other  but  what  seemeth  good  to  him. 

Chorus 

How  can  this  be?     What  hope?     Seest  thou  not 
That  thou  hast  erred?     But  in  what  way  hast  erred, 
That  to  unfold, — while  me  it  gladdens  not. 
To  thee  is  pain.     Forbear  we  then  this  theme; 
But  from  this  struggle  seek  thou  some  escape. 

Prometheus 

Whoso  his  foot  holdeth  unmeshed  of  harm, 

For  him  'tis  easy  to  exhort  and  warn 

One  sorely  plagued.     But  this  I  all  foreknew; 

Of  will,  free  will,  I  erred,  nor  will  gainsay  it. 

Mortals  abetting  I  myself  found  bale; 

Not  that  I  thought,  with  penalties  like  these, 

To  wither  thus  against  skypiercing  rocks, 

Doom'd  to  this  drear  and  solitary  height. 

But  ye,  no  further  wail  my  present  woes. 
But,  on  the  ground  alighting,  hear  from  me 
On-gliding  fate — so  shall  ye  learn  the  end. 
Yield  to  me,  prithee  yield,  and  grieve  with  him 
Who  now  is  wretched.     Thus  it  is  that  grief 
Ranging  abroad  alights  on  each  in  turn. 


76  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus 

To  no  unwilling  ears  thy  words 
Appeal,  Prometheus;  and  with  nimble  feet 
Leaving  our  swiftly- wafted  seat 
And  holy  ether,  track  of  birds, 
I  to  this  rugged  ground  draw  near; 
Thy  woes  from  first  to  last  I  fain  would  hear. 


(Enter  Oceanos,  riding  on  a  griffin  or  seamonster.) 

OCEANOS 

The  goal  of  my  long  course  I  gain. 

And  come,  Prometheus,  to  thy  side. 
This  swift- winged  bird  without  a  bit  I  reign. 

My  will  his  only  guide. 
Compassion  for  thy  fate,  be  sure,  I  feel; 
Thereto  the  tie  of  kin  constraineth  me ; 
But  blood  apart,  to  no  one  would  I  deal 

More  honour  than  to  thee. 
That  true  my  words  thou  soon  shalt  know; 

No  falsely  glozing  tongue  is  mine ; 
Come,  how  I  may  assist  thee  plainly  show, 
For  than  Oceanos  a  friend  more  leal 

Thou  ne'er  shalt  boast  as  thine. 

Prometheus 

Hal     What  means  this?     Art  thou  too  hither  come 

Spectator  of  my  pangs?     How  hast  thou  dared. 

Quitting  thy  namesake  flood,  thy  rock-roof'd  caves 

Self-wrought,  this  iron-teeming  land  to  reach? 

Art  come  .^ndeed  to  gaze  upon  my  doom. 

And  with  my  grievous  woes  to  sympathize? 

A  spectacle  behold; — this  friend  of  Zeus, 

This  co-appointer  of  his  sovereignty. 

By  what  dire  anguish  I  by  him  am  bow'd. 


iEschylus  and  the  Prometheus  77 

OCEANOS 

I  see,  Prometheus,  and  would  fain  to  thee. 
As  subtle  as  thou  art,  best  counsel  give; 
Know  thine  own  self,  thy  manner  mould  anew. 
For  new  the  monarch  who  now  rules  the  gods; 
But  if  thou  thus  harsh,  keenly-whetted  words 
Still  hurlest,  Zeus,  though  thron'd  so  far  aloft, 
Mayhap  may  hear  thee,  so  the  pangs  which  now 
His  wrath  inflicts  but  childish  sport  may  seem. 
But  come,  O  much-enduring,  quell  thy  rage; 
Seek  thou  releasement  from  these  miseries; 
Stale  may  appear  to  thee  the  words  I  speak; 
Yet  such  the  penalty  that  awaits,  Prometheus, 
On  a  too  haughty  tongue.     But  thou,  e'en  now 
Nowise  art  humbled,  nor  dost  yield  to  ills 
But  to  the  present  wouldest  add  new  woe; 
Therefore,  I  charge  thee,  barkening  to  my  rede,* 
Kick  not  against  the  pricks,  since  harsh  the  king 
Who  now  holds  sway,  accountable  to  none. 
And  now  I  go,  and  will  forthwith  essay 
If  I  avail  to  free  thee  from  these  toils. 
But  be  thou  calm,  nor  over-rash  of  speech; 
Knowest  thou  not,  being  exceeding  wise, 
That  to  the  froward  tongue  cleaves  chastisement? 

Prometheus 

Much  joy  I  give  thee  scatheless  as  thou  art. 
Though  in  all  plots  and  daring  leagued  with  me. 
But  now  let  be;  forbear  thy  toil;  for  Him 
Persuade  thou  canst  not:     Him  no  suasion  moves; 
Nay,  lest  the  journey  breed  thee  harm,  beware. 

OCEANOS 

More  cunning  art  thou  others  to  advise 

Than  thine  own  self.     By  deed  I  judge,  not  word; 

But  fixed  is  my  resolve,  hold  me  not  back; 

For  sure  I  am,  yes  sure,  that  Zeus  to  me 

Will  grant  this  boon,  and  loose  thee  from  these  pains. 

1  Advice,  counsel 


78  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Prometheus 

For  this  I  praise  thee,  nor  will  cease  to  praise; 
For  nought  of  kindly  zeal  thou  lackest ;  yet 
Toil  not,  for  vain,  nor  helpful  unto  me. 
Thy  toil  will  prove, — if  toil  indeed  thou  wilt;  — 
But  hold  thee  quiet  rather,  keep  aloof; 
For  I,  though  in  mishap,  not  therefore  wish 
Widespreading  fellowship  of  woe  to  see. 

No  tiro  thou. 
Nor  dost  my  teaching  need.     Save  thou  thyself 
As  best  thou  knowest  how.     But  be  assured 
I  to  the  dregs  my  present  doom  will  drain. 
Until  the  heart  of  Zeus  relax  its  ire. 

OCEANOS 

Know'st  thou  not  this,  Prometheus,  that  wise  words 
To  a  distemper'd  mind  physicians  are? 

Prometheus 

Ay,  if  well-timed  they  mollify  the  heart, 
Nor  with  rude  pressure  chafe  its  swelling  ire. 

.     OCEANOS 

True:  but  if  forethought  be  with  boldness  leagued. 
What  lurking  mischief  seest  thou?     Instruct  me. 

Prometheus 
Light-minded  folly,  and  superfluous  toil. 

OCEANOS 

Still  from  this  ailment  let  me  ail,  since  most 
The  wise  it  profiteth  not  wise  to  seem. 

Prometheus 
But  haply  mine  this  error  may  appear. 


^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  79 

OCEANOS 

Certes,'  thine  argument  remands  me  home. 

Prometheus 
Good!     Lest  thy  plaint  for  me  work  thee  ill-will. 

OCEANOS 

With  him  new-seated  on  the  all-ruling  throne? 

Prometheus 
Of  him  beware  that  ne'er  his  heart  be  vexed. 

OCEANOS 

Thy  plight,  Prometheus,  is  my  monitor. 

Prometheus 
Speed  forth!     Begone!     Cherish  thy  present  mood. 

OCEANOS 

To  me  right  eager  hast  thou  bayed  that  word, 
For  my  four-footed  bird,  with  wings  outspread, 
Fans  the  clear  track  of  ether;  fain,  in  sooth, 
In  wonted  stall  to  bend  the  weary  knee. 

{Exit  OCEANOS.) 

Chorus 

Prometheus,  I  bewail  thy  doom  of  woe; 

From  their  moist  fountains  rise, 

Flooding  my  tender  eyes. 
Tears  that  my  cheek  bedew.     O,  cruel  blow! 
For  Zeus  by  his  own  laws  doth  now  hold  sway. 
And  to  the  elder  gods  a  haughty  spear  display. 

1  Certainly. 


8o  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Rings  the  whole  country  now  with  echoing  groans. 

The  grand  time-honoured  sway, 

Mighty  now  passed  away, 
Of  thee  and  of  thy  brethren  it  bemoans. 
And  all  who  dwell  on  Asia's  hallowed  shore 
Thy  loud-resounding  griefs  with  kindred  grief  deplore. 
One  only  of  the  gods  before  thus  bent 
Have  I  beheld,  'neath  adamantine  pains, 
Atlas,  the  Titan,  who  with  many  a  groan 

Still  on  his  back  sustains, 
Vast  burthen,  the  revolving  firmament. 
Chiming  in  cadence  ocean- waves  resound; 
Moans  the  abyss,  and  Hades'  murky  gloom 
Bellows  responsive  in  the  depth  profound; 
While  fountains  of  clear-flowing  rivers  moan 

His  piteous  doom. 

SECOND  EPISODE 

Prometheus 

Think  not  that  I  through  pride  or  stubbornness 

Keep  silence;  nay,  my  brooding  heart  is  gnawed, 

Seeing  myself  thus  marred  with  contumely; 

And  yet  what  other  but  myself  marked  out 

To  these  new  gods  their  full  prerogatives? 

But  I  refrain;  for,  naught  my  tongue  would  tell 

Save  what  ye  know.     But  rather  list  the  ills 

Of  mortal  men,  how,  being  babes  before, 

I  ^  made  them  wise  and  masters  of  their  wits. 

This  will  I  tell,  not  as  in  blame  of  men. 

But  showing  how  from  kindness  flow'd  my  gifts. 

For  they,  at  first,  though  seeing,  saw  in  vain; 

Hearing  they  heard  not,  but,  like  shapes  in  dreams, 

Through  the  long  time  all  things  at  random  mixed; 

Of  brick-wove  houses,  sunward-turned,  nought  knew, 

1  Divine  Prometheus  in  this  scene  appears  almost  an  allegory;  a  type  of 
man's  own  progressive  spirit,  audaciously  at  war  with  the  forces  of  nature  that 
would  crush  him. 


iEschylus  and  the  Prometheus  8i 

Nor  joiner's  craft,  but  burrowing  they  dwelt 
Like  puny  ants,  in  cavern'd  depths  unsunned. 
Neither  of  winter,  nor  of  spring  flower-strewn. 
Nor  fruitful  summer,  had  they  certain  sign. 
But  without  judgment  everything  they  wrought, 
Till  I  to  them  the  risings  of  the  stars 
Discovered,  and  their  settings  hard  to  scan. 
Nay,  also  Number,  art  supreme,  for  them 
I  found,  and  marshalling  of  written  signs. 
Handmaid  to  memory,  mother  of  the  Muse. 
And  I  in  traces  first  brute  creatures  yok'd, 
Subject  to  harness,  with  vicarious  strength 
Bearing  in  mortals'  stead  their  heaviest  toils. 
And  'neath  the  car  rein-loving  steeds  I  brought, 
Chief  ornament  of  wealth-abounding  pomp. 
And  who  but  I  the  ocean-roaming  wain^ 
For  mariners  invented,  canvas-winged? 
Such  cunning  works  for  mortals  I  contrived, 
Yet,  hapless,  for  myself  find  no  device 
To  free  me  from  this  present  agony.^ 

Chorus 

Unseemly  woe  thou  bearest.     Driven  astray 
Flounders  thy  judgment,  and  like  sorry  leech 
Falling  distempered,  spiritless  thou  art. 
Nor  remedies  canst  find  thyself  to  cure. 

Prometheus 

Hearken  the  rest,  and  thou  wilt  marvel  more 

What  arts  and  what  resources  I  devised. 

This  chief  of  all;  if  any  one  fell  sick. 

No  help  was  there,  diet  or  liniment. 

Nor  healing  draught;  but  men,  for  lack  of  drugs, 

Wasted  away,  till  I  to  them  revealed 

Commixture  of  assuaging  remedies 

1  Conveyance,  chariot. 

2 The  similarity  in  wording  with  Mark  xv.  31,  is  striking.  The  early 
Christian  preachers  often  apply  the  name  Prometheus  to  the  Friend  of  man, 
crucified  for  them. 


82  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Which  may  disorders  manifold  repel. 

Of  prophecies  the  various  modes  I  fixed, 

And  among  dreams  did  first  discriminate 

The  truthful  vision.     Voices  ominous, 

Hard  to  interpret,  I  to  them  made  known. 

Such  were  the  boons  I  gave.     And  'neath  the  earth 

Those  other  helps  to  men,  concealed  which  lie. 

Brass,  iron,  silver,  gold,  who  dares  affirm 

That  before  me  he  had  discovered  them? 

No  one,  I  know,  but  who  would  idly  vaunt. 

The  sum  of  all  learn  thou  in  one  brief  word: 

All  arts  to  mortals  from  Prometheus  came. 

Chorus 

Not  now  for  mortals  beyond  measure  care, 
Thy  hapless  self  neglecting;  since,  in  sooth. 
Good  hope  have  I  that,  loosen 'd  from  these  bonds, 
In  might  thou 'It  prove  an  equal  match  for  Zeus. 

Prometheus 

Nor  yet  nor  thus  is  it  ordained  that  fate 
These  things  shall  compass;  but  by  myriad  pangs 
And  tortures  bent,  so  shall  I  'scape  these  bonds; 
Art  than  necessity  is  weaker  far. 

Chorus 
Who  then  is  helmsman  of  necessity? 

Prometheus 
The  triform  Fates,  and  ever  mindful  Furies.^ 

Chorus 
Is  Zeus  in  might  less  absolute  than  these? 

Prometheus 
E'en  he  the  fore-ordain 'd  can  not  escape. 

1  All  such  vague  conceptions  are  little  more  than  types  of  cosmic  law,  which 
no  being,  human  or  divine,  can  violate. 


^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  83 

Chorus 
What  is  ordain*d  for  Zeus  save  aye  to  reign? 

Prometheus 
No  further  mayst  thou  question;  urge  me  not. 

Chorus 
Deep  mystery,  methinks,  thou  keepest  veil'd. 

Prometheus 

Turn  to  some  other  theme;  not  meet  it  is 
Now  to  discourse  of  this,  but  close  to  wrap 
In  strictest  silence;  for,  this  secret  kept. 
Unseemly  bonds  I  *  scape,  and  tortures  keen. 

Chorus 

Never  may  Zeus,  who  sole  doth  reign, 

My  will  with  adverse  might  oppose; 

Nor  I  to  serve  the  gods  refrain, 

With  rites  of  slaughtered  kine,  where  flows 
Father  Oceanos'  exhaustless  tide. 

Neither  in  word  may  I  transgress! 
Deep  in  my  heart's  recess. 
Steadfast  for  aye  may  this  resolve  abide. 

'Tis  sweet  to  run  life's  long  career 

By  hopes  attended  strong  and  bold. 

Feeding  the  heart  in  blithesome  cheer; 

But  thee  I  shudder  to  behold 
By  myriad  tortures  rack'd  in  sore  distress. 

For  thou,  of  Zeus  unaw'd,  hast  still. 
In  pride  and  sheer  self-will,^ 
Mortals,  Prometheus,  honoured  in  excess. 

This  is  indeed  Prometheus'  fatal  error,  of  which  he  is  reminded  on  every 


hand. 


84  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

THIRD  EPISODE 
{Enter  lo.) 

What  country?     What  race?     Who  is  he, 

Whom,  rock-bound,  I  survey, 

Storm-battered?     What  trespass  hath  thee 

Thus  doomed  to  destruction?     Oh,  say, 
To  what  region  of  earth  have  I  wandered,  forlorn? 
Ah  me!     The  dire  anguish!     Ah  me! 

Again  the  barbed  pest  doth  assail ! 

Thou  phantom  of  Argus,  earthbom; 

Avert  him,  O  earth!     Ah,  I  quail. 
The  herdsman  beholding  with  myriad  eyes. 
With  crafty  look,  onward,  still  onward  he  hies; 
Not  even  in  death  is  he  hid  'neath  the  earth; 

But,  e'en  from  the  shades  coming  back. 
He  hounds  me,  forlorn  one,  in  anguish  of  dearth, 
To  roam  by  the  sea- waves'  salt  track. 

,     Strophe 

Still  droneth  the  wax-moulded  reed, 

Shrill-piping,  a  sleep-breathing  strain. 

Ah  me!     The  dire  anguish!     Woe!     Woe! 

Ah,  whither  on  earth  do  these  far  roamings  lead? 

What  trespass  canst  find,  son  of  Kronos,  in  me, 

That  thou  yokest  me  ever  to  pain? 

Woe!     Ah,  woe! 

And  wherefore  with  brize-driven  fear*  torture  so 

A  wretched  one,  frenzied  in  brain? 
Oh  bum  me  with  fire,  or  o'erwhelm  'neath  the  soil 
Or  fling  me  to  ravenous  beasts  of  the  sea. 

1  This  strange  myth  seems  to  have  been  first  suggested  by  the  appearance 
of  the  horned  new  moon,  hurrying  across  the  cloudy  sky  like  a  hunted  maid, 
fleeing  the  iealous  wrath  of  some  Heavenly  queen.  The  ten  thousand  eves 
of  wakeful  Argus  set  to  watch  her  are  plainly  tne  stars.  The  final  escape  of  lo 
to  Egypt  may  have  been  added  to  the  tale  when  Greeks  first  heard  of  the 
horned  Isis. 

2  Goaded  by  gadfly. 


iEschylus  and  the  Prometheus  85 

Begrudge  not,  O  Lord!  to  my  prayers  to  give  heed. 
Enough  hath  outworn  me  my  much-roaming  toil. 
Nor  wist  I  from  torment  how  I  may  be  freed. 
The  voice  dost  thou  hear  of  the  cow-horned  maid? 

Prometheus 
And  how  not  hear  the  maid  of  Inachos, 
Brize-driven,  who  the  heart  of  Zeus  with  love 
Doth  warm,  and  now  in  courses  all  too  long, 
Through  Hera's  hate,  is  rudely  exercised? 

lo 
Whence  know'st  thou  to  speak  my  sire's  name? 
Oh  answer  a  wretched  one's  prayer; — 
Ah  me!     The  dire  anguish!     Woe!     Woe! 

Who  art  thou,  poor  wretch,  who  dost  truly  proclaim 

My  plague,  with  its  frenzying  torture? 

What  cure  for  my  plague?  If  such  knowledge  be  thine, 

Forthwith  to  the  sad-roaming  maiden  declare. 

Prometheus 
Plainly  I'll  tell  thee  all  thou  wouldst  learn. 

lo 
What  time  to  me,  poor  outcast,  yet  must  run? 

Prometheus 
Nothing  I  grudge,  yet  shrink  to  vex  thy  heart. 

lo 
Care  not  for  me  more  than  to  me  is  sweet. 

Prometheus 
Thine  eager  wish  constrains  my  tongue;  give  ear. 

Chorus 
Not  yet;  to  me  my  dole  of  pleasure  deal; 
Enquire  we  first  into  this  maiden's  plague. 
Herself  relating  her  sore-wasting  fortunes. 
Her  residue  of  toil  then  teach  us  thou. 


86  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

lo 
I  know  not  how  I  can  deny  your  wish, 
So  in  clear  word  all  ye  desire  to  know 
That  shall  ye  hear; — Yet  I  am  shamed  to  tell 
Wherefore,  on  me,  forlorn  one,  burst  the  storm 
Heaven-sent,  and  whence  this  form's  disfigurement. 
For  evermore  would  nightly  visions  haunt 
My  virgin  chambers,  gently  urging  me 
With  soothing  words; — **0  damsel,  highly  blest. 
Why  longer  live  in  maidenhood,  when  thee 
Wait  loftiest  nuptials?     For,  by  passion's  dart 
Inflamed  is  Zeus  for  thee,  and  fain  would  share 
The  yoke  of  Cypris.^     Spurn  not  thou,  O  child. 
The  couch  of  Zeus,  but  to  the  grassy  mead 
Of  Lerna  hie  thee,  to  thy  father's  herds 
And  cattle-stalls,  that  so  the  eye  of  Zeus 
From  longing  may  find  respite."     By  such  dreams 
From  night  to  night  still  was  I  visited. 
Unhappy  one;  till,  taking  heart  at  length. 
My  night-bom  visions  to  my  sire  I  told. 
Then  he  to  Pytho^  many  a  herald  sent 
And  to  Dodona  f  seeking  to  be  taught 
How  best,  by  deed  or  word,  to  please  the  gods. 
But  they  returned,  announcing  oracles 
Of  riddling  import,  vague  and  hard  to  spell. 
At  length  to  Inachos*  came  clear  response. 
By  voice  oracular  commanding  him 
From  home  and  father-land  to  thrust  me  forth. 
At  large  to  range,  as  consecrate  to  heaven. 
Far  as  earth's  utmost  bounds.     Should  he  refuse, 
From  Zeus  would  come  the  fiery  thunderbolt. 
And  his  whole  race  extirpate  utterly. 
Then  yielding  to  Apollo's  oracles. 
He  drave  me  forth,  and  barred  me  from  his  home, 
Against  his  will  and  mine;  but,  forcefully, 

1  i.  e.  Aphrodite,  goddess  of  love. 

2  Delphi,  seat  of  the  oracle. 

3  Another  very  ancient  place  of  prophecy. 
<Fatberof  lo. 


iEschylus  and  the  Prometheus  87 

The  curb  of  Zeus  constrained  him  this  to  do. 
Forthwith  my  shape  and  mind  distorted  were. 

Then  the  earth-born  herdsman, 
Hot-tempered  Argus,  ever  dogged  my  steps, 
Gazing  upon  me  with  his  myriad  eyes. 
But  him  a  sudden  and  unlooked-for  fate 
Did  reave  ^  of  Hfe;  but  I,  brize-tortured,  still 
Before  the  scourge  divine  am  driven  on 
From  land  to  land.     The  past  thou  hearest;  now 
If  thou  canst  tell  my  future  toils,  say  on. 
Nor,  pity-moved,  soothe  me  with  lying  tales. 
For  garbled  words,  I  hold,  are  basest  ills. 

Chorus 

Alas!     Alas!     Let  be! 
Never,  oh  never,  had  I  thought 
That  words  with  such  strange  meaning  fraught 

Would  reach  mine  ear. 
Nor  that  such  horrors,  woes,  such  cruel  ill. 
So  hard  to  gaze  on,  and  so  hard  to  bear. 
With  double-pointed  goad,  my  soul  would  chill. 

Fate!     Fate!     Ah  me!  ah  me! 
I  shudder  lo's  woeful  plight  to  see. 

Prometheus 

The  rest  now  hearken. 
What  trials  this  young  maid  hath  yet  to  bear 
From  Hera.     Thou  too,  child  of  Inachos, 
Cast  in  thy  heart  my  words,  that  thou  in  full 
Mayst  of  thy  weary  travel  learn  the  goal. 
First,  turning  hence  towards  the  rising  sun. 
Traverse  uncultured  wastes;  so  shalt  thou  reach 
The  Scythian  nomads,  who,  *neath  wattled  ^  roofs. 
Uplifted  dwell  on  waggons  amply-wheeled. 
And  are  accoutred  with  far-darting  bows. 
Approach  not  these,  but  skirting  with  thy  foot 
The  sounding  breakers,  hie  thee  from  their  land. 

1  Bereave,  despoil,  rob. 

2  flatted  or  woveq. 


88  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Hybristes'  ^  river  then — not  falsely  named — 
Thou 'It  reach;  the  ford,  for  hard  it  is  to  cross, 
Attempt  not  until  Caucasus  thou  gain. 
Highest  of  mountains,  from  whose  very  brow 
The  river  spouteth  forth  its  might;  forthwith 
Its  crest  surmounting,  neighbor  to  the  stars. 
Southward  direct  thy  course  until  thou  reach 
The  host  of  man-abhorring  Amazons. 
These  will  conduct  thee,  and  right  willingly; 
Then  the  Kimmerian  isthmus  ^  thou  shalt  gain 
Hard  by  the  narrow  portals  of  the  lake. 
Which  it  behooveth  thee  with  dauntless  heart 
To  leave,  and  traverse  the  Maeotic  strait; 
And  evermore  among  mankind  shall  live 
The  mighty  record  of  thy  passage  there. 
For  men  from  thee  shall  call  it  Bosporos. 
Quitting  the  plain  of  Europe  thou  shalt  come 
To  Asia's  continent. — How  think  ye?  say. 
Seems  not  the  monarch  of  the  gods  to  be 
Ruthless  alike  in  all?     For  he,  a  god. 
Yearning  to  meet  in  love  a  mortal  maid. 
Upon  her  did  impose  these  wanderings. 
A  bitter  wooer  hast  thou  found,  O  maid. 
For  wedlock  bond, — for  what  thine  ears  have  heard 
Account  not  e'en  the  prelude  to  thy  toils. 

lo 

What  boots  it  then  to  live?     Why  not  with  speed 
Hurl  myself  headlong  from  this  rugged  cliff. 
That,  dashed  upon  the  ground,  I  from  my  woes 
Respite  may  find?     Better  to  die  at  once 
Than  all  my  days  to  linger  out  in  pain. 

Prometheus 
111  wouldst  thou  bear,  methinks,  my  agonies, 
To  whom  it  is  not  foreordained  to  die. 
For  death  would  be  releasement  from  my  woes. 
Before  that  Zeus  from  sovereignty  be  hurled. 

1  "Outrage."    Nearly  all  the  geography  here  is  imaginary. 
2 The  Crimea, 


-^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  89 

lo 
How?     Shall  Zeus  ever  be  from  empire  hurled? 

Prometheus 
Thou  wouldest  joy,  methinks,  such  hap  to  see. 

lo 

How  should  I  not,  who  suffer  ill  from  Zeus? 

Prometheus 
That  thus  it  shall  be  it  is  thine  to  learn. 

lo 

By  whom  despoiled  of  his  imperial  sway? 

Prometheus 
Spoiled  by  himself,  and  his  own  senseless  pians. 

Id 

But  how?     Declare,  if  telling  bring  no  harm. 

Prometheus 
Wedlock  contracting  he  shall  one  day  rue. 

lo 

Divine  or  human?     If  permitted,  speak. 

Prometheus 
What  matters  it?     This  may  not  be  disclosed. 

lo 
Shall  then  his  consort  drive  him  from  the  throne? 

Prometheus 
Ay,  a  son  bearing  stronger  than  his  sire. 


90  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

lo 
Is  there  for  him  no  refuge  from  this  doom? 

Prometheus 
No,  none;  unless  I  be  from  bonds  released. 

lo 

Who  shall  release  thee,  'gainst  the  will  of  Zeus? 

Prometheus 
One  of  thy  progeny,  'tis  so  ordained. 

Id 

How  so?  shall  child  of  mine  free  thee  from  bale? 

Prometheus 
Count  ten  descendants,  and  after  them  a  third. 

lo 

Not  easy  is  it  this  oracle  to  spell. 

Prometheus 
So  neither  seek  thy  proper  grief  to  learn. 

lo 
Nay,  hold  not  forth  a  boon  and  straight  withdraw  it. 

Prometheus 

Since  ye  are  eager,  I  will  thwart  you  not. 
Nor  will  withhold  what  ye  desire  to  know. 
First,  lo,  thy  vex'd  course  to  thee  I'll  tell. 
Which  in  thy  mind's  recording  tablets  grave. 
When  thou  hast  crossed  the  flood,  limit  betwixt 
Two  continents,  fronting  the  burning  East 


-^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  91 

Trod  by  the  sun,  then  onward  hold  thy  course. 
Fierce  northern  blasts  thou  wilt  encounter  first; 
Shun  thou  their  downward  rush,  lest,  unaware. 
In  wintry  tempest  thou  be  rudely  caught. 
The  roaring  sea-wave  skirt  thou  then  until 
Kisthene's  Gorgoneian  plains  thou  reach, 
Where  dwell  the  Phorkides,  maids  grey  with  eld. 
Three,  swan-shaped,  of  one  common  eye  possessed, 
One  common  tooth,  whom  neither  with  his  beams 
The  sun  beholdeth,  nor  the  nightly  moon. 

A  far  border-land 
Thou  next  shalt  reach,  where  dwells  a  swarthy  race. 
Near  the  sun's  fonts,  whence  is  the  ^thiop  ^  river. 
Along  its  banks  proceed  till  thou  attain 
The  mighty  rapids,  where  from  Bybline  heights 
.Pure  draughts  of  sacred  water  Neilos  sends. 
He  to  the  land  three-cornered  thee  shall  guide. 
Encircled  by  the  Nile.^ 

On  the  land's  verge  a  town,  Canobos,  stands, 
At  Neilos'  very  mouth  and  sand-bar, — there, 
Zeus  shall  restore  thy  reason, — stroking  thee 
With  touch  alone  of  unalarming  hand; 
Then  thou  shalt  dark  Epaphos  bear,  whose  name 
Records  his  sacred  gendering,  who  shall  reap 
All  regions  watered  by  broad-flowing  Nile. 
Fifth  in  descent  from  him  a  female  race, 
Fifty  in  number,  shall  return  to  Argos, 
Not  willingly,  but  wedlock  to  avoid 
Of  cousins;  these,  with  passion- winged  hearts, 
Falcons  that  follow  close  on  doves,  shall  come 
Chasing  unlawful  wedlock. 
Woman's  fell  prowess  shall  o'er  men  prevail; 
For  every  bride  her  spouse  shall  reave  of  life, 
The  two-edged  weapon  bathing  in  his  neck. — 
May  Kypris  visit  in  such  guise  my  foes! — 
But  of  the  maids  shall  one,  by  love  beguiled, 

iThis  is  the  name  for  the  upper  courses  of  the  Nile,  whose  sources,  curi- 
ously enough,  ^Eschylus  believes  to  be  in  Asia. 
2  The  Delta. 


92  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Her  partner  fail  to  slay; ' — her  will's  keen  edge 

Blunted,  she  will  of  evils  twain  prefer 

Repute  of  weakness  to  bloodguiltiness. 

She  shall  a  kingly  race  in  Argos  bear; 

This  to  set  forth  at  large  needs  lengthy  speech; 

But  from  this  line  shall  dauntless  hero  spring,^ 

Bow-famous,  who  shall  free  me  from  these  toils. 

Such  oracle  my  mother,  born  of  eld, 

Themis,  hoar  Titaness,  to  me  rehearsed. 

But  how  and  where,  to  tell,  needs  lengthy  speech. 

Nor  would  the  knowledge  aught  advantage  thee. 

lo 

Ah  me!  ah  woe  is  me! 
Brain-smiting  madness  once  again 
Inflames  me,  and  convulsive  pain. 
The  gadfly's  barb,  not  wrought  with  fire. 

Stings  me;  against  my  breast 
Kicks  my  pent  heart  with  fear  oppressed. 
Mine  eyeballs  roll  in  dizzy  gyre; 
Out  of  my  course  by  frenzy's  blast 
I'm  borne.     My  tongue  brooks  not  the  rein, 
And  turbid  words,  at  random  cast, 
'Gainst  waves  of  hateful  madness  beat  in  vain. 

Chorus.    Strophe  I 

Sage  was  the  man,  ay,  sage  in  sooth. 
Who  in  his  thought  first  weighed  this  truth. 
And  then  with  pithy  phrase  expressed — 

That  wedlock  in  one's  own  degree  is  best. 

That  not  where  wealth  saps  manly  worth, 
Nor  where  pride  boasts  its  lofty  birth. 

Should  son  of  toil  repair  in  marriage  quest. 

» Hypermestra,  whom  Horace  calls  "magnificently  untrue"  to  the  promise 
given  her  father,  to  kill  her  cousin-busband. 
2  Heracles. 


iEschylus  and  the  Prometheus  93 

Antistrophe  I 

Never,  oh  never,  Fates,  may  ye. 

Dread  powers  primeval,  gaze  on  me 

Sharing  his  couch  who  reigns  above. 
Or  joined  with  son  of  heaven  in  ties  of  love ! 

For  filled  with  dread  am  I  to  see 

lo's  love- shunning  virgin-state. 
Consumed  in  wanderings  dire  through  Hera's  hate. 

EXODUS 
Prometheus 

Yea  verily  shall  Zeus,  though  stubborn-souled 
Be  humbled  yet;  such  marriage  he  prepares, 
Which  from  his  throne  of  power  to  nothingness 
Shall  hurl  him  down;  so  shall  be  all  fulfilled 
His  father  Kronos'  curse,  which  erst  he  spake 
What  time  he  fell  from  his  primeval  throne. 
From  such  disasters  none  of  all  the  gods 
To  Zeus  escape  can  show  save  I  alone; 
I  know  it  and  the  way.     Let  him  then  sit 
Fearless,  confiding  in  supernal  thunder. 
The  bolt,  fire-breathing,  wielding  in  his  hands; 
For  these  shall  not  avail,  but  fall  he  shall, 
A  fall  disgraceful,  not  to  be  endured. 
Such  wrestler  now,  himself  against  himself. 
He  arnis  for  battle; — portent  hard  to  quell; 
Who  flame  shall  find  surpassing  lightning's  glare, 
And  crash  more  mighty  than  the  thunder- roll; 
Against  this  evil  stumbling,  Zeus  shall  learn 
How  wide  apart  are  sway  and  servitude. 

Chorus 
Such  talk  'gainst  Zeus  thy  wish,  I  trow,  inspires. 

Prometheus 
Both  what  shall  be,  I  speak,  and  what  I  wish. 


94  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus 
And  must  we  look  for  one  o'er  Zeus  to  reign? 

Prometheus 
Yea,  pangs  than  these  more  crushing  shall  he  bear. 

Chorus 
How  canst  thou  fail  to  fear,  hurling  such  words? 

Prometheus 
What  should  I  fear,  who  am  not  doomed  to  die? 

Chorus 
To  keener  struggle  may  he  sentence  thee. 

Prometheus 
So  let  him  then!     All  is  by  me  foreseen. 

Chorus 
The  wise  are  they  who  worship  Nemesis. 

Prometheus 

Revere,  adore,  cringe  aye  to  him  who  reigns, 
For  me,  at  less  than  nought  I  value  Zeus. 
For  this  brief  hour  let  him  both  do  and  reign. 
E'en  as  he  will; — not  long  he'll  rule  the  gods. 

But  yonder  I  behold  the  scout  of  Zeus, 
Of  this  new  potentate  the  servitor; — 
Doubtless  some  news  to  herald  he  has  come. 

(Enter  Hermes.) 

Hermes 

To  thee,  professing  wisdom,  steeped  in  gall. 
Who  'gainst  the  gods  hast  sinned,  on  short-liveS  men 
Prerogatives  bestowing,  thief  of  fire, 
To  thee  I  speak;  the  father  bids  thee  tell 


^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  95 

What  nuptials  these  thou  vauntest  of,  by  which 
Himself  shall  fall  in  sway,  and  nought  in  riddles. 
But  point  by  point  explain;  nor  cause  to  me, 
Prometheus,  double  journeys;  for  thou  seest. 
Not  by  such  deaUng  is  Zeus  mollified. 

Prometheus 
Full  of  high  spirit  and  augustly  mouthed 
This  speech,  as  fits  an  underling  of  gods. 
Younglings,  and  young  of  sway,  ye  think  to  dwell 
Henceforth  in  griefless  citadels.     From  these 
Have  I  not  known  two  potentates  ^  cast  down? 
Ay,  and  a  third,  now  reigning,  I  shall  see 
In  basest  and  most  sudden  overthrow. 
Seem  I  to  thee  before  these  upstart  gods 
To  quail  or  cringe?     Far  from  it,  nay,  no  whit. 
But  get  thee  back*  with  speed  the  way  thou  camest, 
For  of  thy  quest  thou 'It  nothing  learn  from  me. 

Hermes 
E'en  by  such  haughty  wilfulness  before 
Didst  thou  to  these  dire  moorings  waft  thyself. 

Prometheus 
This  my  ill-fortune,  be  thou  well  assured, 
I  would  not  barter  with  thy  servitude. 
This  rock  to  lackey  better  'tis  in  sooth 
Than  trusty  scout  be  bom  to  father  Zeus. 
Thus,  as  is  fitting,  scorn  replies  to  scorn. 

Hermes 
Thou  seemst  to  revel  in  thy  present  state. 

Prometheus 
Revel?     Oh  might  I  in  such  revel  see 
My  foes.     And  thee  among  them  do  I  count. 

Hermes 
Me  too  thou  boldest  guilty  of  thy  ills? 
1  Ouranos  and  Kronos,  grandfather  and  father  of  Zeus. 


96  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Prometheus 

Shortly  to  speak,  all  gods  I  hate,  whoe'er. 
By  me  bestead,  maltreat  me  wrongfully. 

Hermes 
By  what  I  hear,  not  slight  thy  madness  is. 

Prometheus 
Mad  let  me  be,  if  to  hate  foes  be  madness. 

Hermes 
Unbearable  wert  thou,  if  prosperous. 

Prometheus 
Alas! 

Hermes 
That  word,  I  trow,  Zeus  knoweth  not. 

Prometheus 
Time,  as  it  waxeth  old,  can  all  things  teach. 

Hermes 
But  thou  not  yet  hast  sober  wisdom  learned. 

Prometheus 
Else. I  with  thee,  a  menial,  had  not  talked. 

Hermes 
It  seems  thou 'It  answer  nought  the  sire  demands. 

Prometheus 
Grace  since  I  owe  him,  grace  must  I  repay. 

Hermes 
Thou  floutest  me  as  though  a  child  I  were. 


-Sschylus  and  the  Prometheus  97 

Prometheus 
Art  not  a  child,  ay,  simpler  than  a  child, 
If  thou  expect  est  aught  to  learn  from  me? 
No  torture  is  there,  no  device  whereby 
Zeus  shall  persuade  me  to  reveal  these  things. 
Before  these  woe-inflicting  bonds  be  loosed. 
Let  then  his  blazing  lightnings  hurtle  down; 
With  white-winged  snow  and  earth-born  thunderings 
Let  him  in  ruin  whelm  and  mingle  all; 
For  none  of  these  shall  bend  my  will  to  tell 
By  whom  from  empery^  he  needs  must  fall. 

Hermes 
Mark  now^  if  helpful  this  may  seem  to  thee. 

Prometheus 
Of  old  my  course  was  looked  to  and  resolved. 

Hermes 
Take  heart,  O  foolish  one,  take  heart  at  length 
To  deal  discreetly  with  these  present  ills. 

Prometheus 
Idly,  as  though  a  wave  thou  shouldst  exhort. 
Thou  troublest  me.     Harbour  no  more  the  thought 
That  I,  in  terror  at  the  will  of  Zeus, 
Effeminate  of  mind  shall  e*er  become, 
And  supplicate  whom  hugely  I  abhor. 
With  woman-aping  palms  to  heaven  upturned. 
To  loose  me  from  these  fetters.     Not  a  whit. 

Hermes 
Much  may  I  speak,  it  seems,  and  speak  in  vain; 
For  nothing  moved  or  softened  is  thy  heart 
By  prayers;  but  thou,  like  newly-yok^d  colt, 
Champing  the  bit,  dost  fight  against  the  rein 
Fiercely;  yet  futile  the  device  wherein 

1  Empire. 


98  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Madly  thou  trustest;  for  mere  stubbornness 

Avails  the  foolish-hearted  less  than  nought. 

But  mark,  if  unpersuaded  by  my  words, 

What  storm  and  triple-crested  surge  of  ills 

Shall  o*er  thee  burst  escapeless.     Yea:  for  first 

With  thunder  and  with  lightning  flame  the  Sire 

This  rugged  crag  shall  rend,  and  hide  thy  frame 

Deep  in  the  rock's  embraces  rudely  clasped. 

But  when  time's  lengthened  course  thou  hast  fulfilled, 

Back  shalt  thou  come  to  daylight.     Then,  in  sooth, 

Zeus'  wingdd  hound,  the  eagle  wet  with  gore. 

Shall  of  thy  flesh  a  huge  flap  rudely  tear; 

Coming,  unbidden  guest,  the  livelong  day 

He  on  thy  black-gnawed  liver  still  shall  feast. 

But  of  such  pangs  look  for  no  term,  until 

Some  god,  successor  of  thy  toils,  appear. 

Willing  to  Hades'  rayless  gloom  to  wend. 

And  to  the  murky  depths  of  Tartaros.^ 

Wherefore  take  counsel; — since  not  feigned,  in  sooth, 

Is  this  bold  threat,  but  all  too  truly  spoken. 

Trust  me,  the  mouth  of  Zeus  knows  not  to  lie, 

But  every  word  completeth.     So  do  thou 

Look  round,  take  heed,  nor  deem  that  stubbornness 

Shall  ever  better  than  good  counsel  prove. 

Chorus 

Timely  to  us  the  word  of  Hermes  seems, 
For  he  exhorts  thee,  dropping  thy  self-will, 
To  search  for  prudent  counsel.     Be  advised  1 
For  to  the  wise  it  bringeth  shame  to  err. 

Prometheus 

To  me  who  knew  them,  hath  he  told 
His  messages,  with  utterance  shrill. 

But  nowise  I  unseemly  hold 

That  foe  from  foe  should  suffer  ill. 

1  Hades  is  the  abode  of  the  dead;  Tartaros,  still  deeper,  is  the  prison- 
house  of  the  old  gods. 


iEschylus  and  the  Prometheus  99 

So  Against  me  now  be  hurled  amain 

Curled  lightning's  two-edged! 
By  thunder  and  spasmodic  whirl 

Of  savage  gales  be  upper  air 
Madly  convulsed !  •  Let  hurricane 
Earth  from  its  deep  foundations  rend, 
E'en  from  its  roots.     Let  ocean's  wave, 
Surging  aloft,  tumultuous  rave. 
And  foaming,  with  the  courses  blend 
Of  heavenly  stars.     Ay,  let  him  hurl 
This  body  to  the  murky  gloom 
Of  Tartaros,  in  stubborn  whirl 
Of  Fortune  caught !     Do  what  he  will 
My  death  he  may  not  doom. 

Hermes 
From  foois  brain-stricken  may  one  hear 
Such  counsels  and  such  words.     But  say, — 
What  sign  of  madness  lacketh  here? 
What  respite  knows  his  frenzied  ire? 
Nathless  do  ye,  who  thus  console 
With  his  spre  pangs,  far  hence  retire; 
Go  quickly,  lest  harsh  thunder's  bray 
With  terror  smite  your  soul. 

Chorus 
In  other  style  exhort  and  preach,  ' 
If  to  persuade  me  thou  art  fain; 
For  all  unbearable  this  speech 
Which  from  thy  lips  hath  burst  amain. 
How  canst  thou  bid  me  consummate 
A  dastard's  part?     With  him  the  worst 
I'll  brave,  for  I  have  learned  to  hate 
Traitors,  than  whom  no  pest  is  more  accursed. 

Hermes 
Then  my  forewarnings  mark,  nor  dare 
When  tangled  in  fell  ruin's  snare 
Fortune  to  blame,  nor  ever  say 


icx)  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

That  Zeus  hath  plunged  you,  unaware, 
In  doleful  plight;  nay,  truly  nay. 
But  ye  yourselves;  for  not  untaught. 
Not  stealthily,  by  sudden  blow, 
Ye  through  sheer  folly  will  be  caught 
In  net  of  boundless  woe. 

Prometheus 

And  lo  in  act,  in  word  no  more, 

Earth  totters; — from  below 
Loud  bellows  the  discordant  roar 
Of  thunder;  lightning's  wreathed  glow 
Blazes  around  me;  dust  elate 
Rides  on  the  whirlwind;  forward  leap 
Of  every  wind  rude  blasts  that  sweep 
In  strife  of  rancour-breathing  hate. 
The  sky  is  mingled  with  the  deep. 
Such  turmoil  to  arouse  my  fear 
Comes  visibly  from  Zeus.     Oh  thou. 
Mother  revered!     Oh  upper  air. 
Who  sheddest  from  thy  circling  sphere 
The  common  light !     Behold  ye  now 
What  pangs  unjust  I  bear! 

(Prometheus  sinks  out  of  sight.) 
This  charge  of  injustice  must  have  been  retracted  later 
in  the  trilogy.  Yet  it  is  no  accident,  that  precisely  this 
play,  delineating  the  unrepentant  and  defiant  rebel,  was 
recopied  and  preserved  from  age  to  age.  Shelley,  him- 
self in  revolt  against  the  political  maxims  and  theological 
beliefs  of  his  age  and  land,  actually  rewrote  this  drama, 
to  make  Prometheus  successful  in  dethroning  Zeus.  But 
even  gentle  Longfellow  and  optimistic  Lowell  have  exalted 
the  Firegiver  far  beyond  any  classical  poet's  judgment  of 
him.  Any  such  modern  treatment  must  be  carefully  dis- 
tinguished   from    the    ancient    view,      -^schylus    does 


-^schylus  and  the  Prometheus  loi 

indeed  credit  the  Titan  with  higher  motives  than  the  mere 
trickery  ascribed  to  him  by  Hesiod.  But  he  is  as  unques- 
tionably in  the  wrong,  and  foredoomed  to  failure,  as  is 
Milton's  Lucifer. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  version  of  the  Prometheus  here  used  in  abridged  form  is 
that  of  Miss  Anna  Swanwick  in  the  Bohn  Classical  Library. 
Other  recent  translators  of  all  the  seven  extant  plays  are  Plumptre 
and  Campbell.  The  finest  rendering  from  any  ancient  drama  is 
Morshead's  "House  of  Atreus,"  a  somewhat  free  paraphrase  of 
the  Oresteian  trilogy.  Mrs.  Browning's  spirited  version  of  the 
"Prometheus"  is  well  known.  Mr.  Browning's  "Agamem- 
non" is  hard  reading.  The  present  writer  has  a  complete  trans- 
lation, and  very  full  discussion  of  the  "Prometheus"  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly  for  July  and  August,  1888.  "The  Persians,"  the  only 
surviving  Greek  tragedy  on  a  contemporary  event,  was  similarly 
treated  in  the  Atlantic  for  September,  1892.  In  the  collection  of 
essays  called  "Hellenica,"  edited  by  Evelyn  Abbot,  is  a  fine  study 
of  w^schylus'  spirit  and  style  by  E.  Myers. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SOPHOCLES  AND  THE  ANTIGONE 

Human  Law  vs.  Divine  ordinance. 

While  ^schylus  had  fought  against  the  Persians 
early  in  the  fifth  century  B.C.,  Sophocles  was  the  friend 
and  associate  of  Pericles,  at  the  epoch  of  Athens'  greatest 
power  and  splendor,  in  the  next  generation.  The  gods 
take  relatively  little  part  in  his  plays.  Neither  did  he  link 
three  plots  or  generations  together,  like  his  senior.  To 
him  the  individual  seemed  quite  capable  of  working  out 
his  own  doom.  More  even  than  either  of  his  famous 
OEdipus-dramas,  the  fate  of  Antigone  has  always  appealed 
to  tenderest  human  sympathy.  In  the  contest  between 
human  edict  and  divine  law  the  heroine  perishes  fearlessly 
through  the  performance  of  a  holy  duty. 

As  the  music  of  the  choral  interludes  has  perished,  and 
the  songs  themselves  have  little  essential  connection  with 
the  plot,  they  are  here  omitted,  as  a  rule.  Next  to  An- 
tigone the  student's  attention  should  be  fixed  on  the  char- 
acter of  King  Creon, — narrow,  jealous,  unfit  to  rule,  yet 
sincere,  often  wise  in  word  though  misguided  in  action. 
Ismene  is  not  cowardly,  but  a  typical  woman. 

The  scene  is  before  the  royal  palace  of  Thebes.  The 
royal  brothers  Eteocles  and  Polynices  have  perished  a  few 
hours  before  by  each  other's  hands.  The  invader,  Poly- 
nices, had  really  the  better  title  to  the  crown.  Antigone 
and  Ismene,  who  appear  in  the  first  scenes,  are  his  sisters, 
and  the  new  king  Creon  is  their  maternal  uncle. 

102 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  103 

PROLOGUE 
Antigone  and  Ismene  appear  from  the  palace. 

Antigone 

0  sister-life,  Ismene 's,  twin  with  mine, 
Knowest  thou  of  the  burden  of  our  race 
Aught  that  from  us  yet  Uving  Zeus  holds  back? 
And  even  now  what  edict  hath  the  prince 
Uttered,  men  say,  to  all  this  Theban  folk? 

Thou  knowest  it,  and  hast  heard?  or  'scapes  thy  sense. 
Aimed  at  thy  friends,  the  mischief  of  thy  foes? 

Ismene 
To  me  of  friends,  Antigone,  no  word 
Hath  come,  or  sweet  or  bitter,  since  that  we 
Two  sisters  of  two  brothers  were  bereaved, 
Both  on  a  day  slain  by  a  two-fold  blow : 
And,  now  that  vanquished  is  the  Argive  host 
Ev'n  with  the  night  fled  hence,  I  know  no  more. 
If  that  I  fare  the  better  or  the  worse. 

y  Antigone 

1  knew  full  well,  and  therefore  from  the  gates 
O'  the  court  I  led  thee  hither,  alone  to  hear. 

Ismene 
There's  trouble  in  thy  looks;  thy  tidings  tell. 

Antigone 
Yea,  hath  not  Creon,  of  our  two  brothers  slain. 
Honoured  with  burial  one,  disdained  the  other? 
For  Eteocles,  they  say,  he  in  the  earth 
With  all  fair  rites  and  ceremony  hath  laid, 
Nor  lacks  he  honour  in  the  world  below; 
But  the  poor  dust  of  Polynices  dead 
Through  Thebes,  'tis  said,  the  edict  hath  gone  forth 
That  none  may  bury,  none  make  moan  for  him. 
But  leave  unwept,  untombed,  a  dainty  prize 


I04  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

For  ravening  birds  that  gloat  upon  their  prey. 
So  hath  our  good  lord  Creon  to  thee  and  me 
Published,  men  say,  his  pleasure — ay,  to  me — 
And  hither  comes,  to  all  who  know  it  not 
Its  purport  to  make  plain,  nor  deems  the  thing 
Of  slight  account,  but  whoso  does  the  deed, 
A  pubhc  death  by  stoning  is  his  doom. 
Thou  hast  it  now;  and  quickly  shall  be  proved 
If  thou  art  noble,  or  base  from  noble  strain. 

ISMENE 

O  rash  of  heart,  if  this  indeed  be  so. 
What  help  in  me,  to  loosen  or  to  bind? 

Antigone 
Consider,  toil  and  pain  if  thou  wilt  share. 

ISMENE 

On  what  adventure  bound.?     What  wouldst  thou  do? 

Antigone 
To  lift  his  body,  wilt  thou  join  with  me? 

ISMENE 

Wouldst  thou  indeed  rebel,  and  bury  him? 

Antigone 

My  brother  will  I  bury,  and  thine  no  less, 
Whether  thou  wilt  or  no:  no  traitress  I. 

ISMENE 

O  all  too  bold — when  Creon  hath  forbid? 

Antigone 
My  rights  to  hinder  is  no  right  of  his. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  105 

ISMENE 

Ah,  sister,  yet  think  how  our  father^  died, 

Wrapt  in  what  cloud  of  hate  and  ignominy 

By  his  own  sins,  self-proved,  and  both  his  eyes 

With  suicidal  hand  himself  he  stabbed: 

Then  too  his  mother-wife,  two  names  in  one. 

Forbid  with  twisted  noose  her  woeful  life: 

Last,  our  two  brothers  in  one  fatal  day 

Drew  sword,  O  miserable,  and  each  to  each 

Dealt  mutual  slaughter  with  unnatural  hands: 

And  now  shall  we  twain,  who  alone  are  left,  ' 

Fall  like  the  rest,  and  worse — in  spite  of  law. 

And  scorning  kings,  their  edicts  and  their  power? 

0  rather  let  us  think,  'tis  not  for  us. 
Who  are  but  women,  to  contend  with  men: 
And  the  king's  word  is  mighty,  and  to  this, 

And  harsher  words  than  this,  we  needs  must  bow. 
Therefore  will  I,  imploring  of  the  dead 
Forgiveness,  that  I  yield  but  as  I  must. 
Obey  the  king's  commandment:  for  with  things 
Beyond  our  reach  'twere  foolishness  to  meddle. 

Antigone 

I'll  neither  urge  thee,  nor,  if  now  thou'dst  help 

My  doing,  should  I  thank  thee  for  thine  aid. 

Do  thou  after  thy  kind:  thy  choice  is  made.: 

I'll  bury  him;  doing  this,  so  let  me  die. 

So  with  my  loved  one,  loved  I  shall  abide. 

My  crime  a  deed  most  holy :  for  the  dead 

Longer  have  I  to  please  than  these  on  earth. 

There  shall  I  dwell  forever:  be  it  thine 

To  have  scorned  what  gods  have  hallowed,  if  thou  wilt. 

Ismene 

Nay,  nothing  do  I  scorn;  but  how  to  break 
My  country's  law — I  am  witless  of  the  way. 

1  CEdipus,  who  unknowing  had  slain  bis  own  father  and  married  his  mother. 


io6  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Antigone 
Be  this  thy  better  part:  I  go  to  heap 
The  earth  upon  my  brother,  whom  I  love. 

ISMENE 

Alas,  unhappy,  how  I  fear  for  thee! 

Antigone 
Fear  not  for  me:  guide  thine  own  fate  aright. 

Ismene 
Yet  breathe  this  purpose  to  no  ear  but  mine: 
Keep  thou  thy  counsel  well — and  so  will  I. 

Antigone 
Oh  speak:  for  much  more  hatred  thou  wilt  get 
Concealing,  than  proclaiming  it  to  all. 

Ismene 
Not  to  attempt  the  impossible  is  best. 

Antigone 
Hated  by  me,  and  hated  by  the  dead — 
To  him  a  hateful  presence  evermore — 
Thou  shouldst  be,  and  thou  shalt  be,  speaking  thus. 
,  But  leave  me,  and  the  folly  that  is  mine. 
This  worst  to  suffer — not  the  worst — since  still 
A  worse  remains,  no  noble  death  to  die. 

Ismene 
Go  if  thou  wilt,  but  going  know  thyself 
Senseless,  yet  to  thy  friends  a  friend  indeed. 

[Exeunt.] 

{Enter  chorus  oj  aged  royal  counsellors,  singing.) 

Chorus 
Lo,  the  sun  upspringing!     Fairest  light  we  hail  thee 
Of  all  dawns  that  on  Thebes  the  seven-gated 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  107 

Ever  broke!     Eye  of  golden  day! 
Over  Dirce's  fount  appearing, 
Hence  the  Argive  host  white-shielded, 
That  in  complete  arms  came  hither. 
Headlong  homeward  thou  didst  urge 
Faster  still  with  shaken  rein. 

But  now  of  Victory  be  glad: 

She  meets  our  gladness  with  an  answering  smile, 

And  Thebes,  the  many-charioted. 

Hears  far  resound  her  praises : 

Now  then  with  war  have  done,  and  strife  forget! 

All  temples  of  the  gods 

Fill  we  with  song  and  night-long  dance; 

And  Theban  Bacchus,  this  our  mirth 

Lead  thou,  and  shake  the  earth! 

{Speaks) 

But  lo  the  ruler  of  this  Theban  land, 
Son  of  Menoeceus,  Creon  comes. 
Obedient  to  whose  summons  we  are  here. 


FIRST  EPISODE 

Creon    {Appearing  from  the  palace) 

Sirs,  it  hath  pleased  the  gods  to  right  again 
Our  Theban  fortunes,  by  sore  tempest  tossed; 
And  by  my  messenger  I  summoned  hither 
You  out  of  all  the  state;  first,  as  I  know  you 
To  the  might  of  the  throne  of  Laius^  loyal  ever : 
Also,  when  CEdipus  upheld  the  state. 
And  when  he  perished,  to  their  children  still 
Ye  with  a  constant  mind  were  faithful  found: 
Now  they  are  gone,  both  on  one  fatal  field 
An  equal  guilt  atoned  with  equal  doom. 
Slayers  of  each  other,  by  each  other  slain: 

1  CEdipus'  father. 


io8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

And  I  am  left,  the  nearest  to  their  blood, 

To  wield  alone  the  sceptre  and  the  realm. 

There  is  no  way  to  know  of  any  man 

The  spirit  and  the  wisdom  and  the  will. 

Till  he  stands  proved,  ruler  and  lawgiver. 

For  who,  with  a  whole  city  to  direct. 

Yet  cleaves  not  to  those  counsels  that  are  best. 

But  locks  his  lips  in  silence,  being  afraid, 

I  hold  and  hold  him  ever  of  men  most  base : 

And  whoso  greater  than  his  country's  cause 

Esteems  a  friend,  I  count  him  nothing  worth. 

For,  Zeus  who  seeth  all  be  witness  now. 

Not  for  the  safety's  sake  would  I  keep  silence. 

And  see  the  ruin  on  my  country  fall. 

Nor  would  I  deem  an  enemy  to  the  state 

Friend  to  myself ;  remembering  still  that  she. 

She  only  brings  us  safe ;  her  deck  we  pace, 

Unfoundered  'mid  the  storm,  our  friends  and  we. 

So  for  the  good  of  Thebes  her  laws  I'll  frame: 

And  such  the  proclamation  I  set  forth. 

Touching  the  sons  of  CEdipus,  even  now — 

Eteocles,  who  fighting  for  this  land 

In  battle  has  fallen,  more  valiant  none  than  he. 

To  bury,  and  no  funeral  rite  omit. 

To  brave  men  paid — their  solace  in  the  grave: 

Not  so  his  brother  Polynices;  he. 

From  exile  back  returning,  utterly 

With  fire  his  country  and  his  father's  gods 

Would  fain  have  burnt,  fain  would  with  kinsmen's  blood 

Have  slaked  his  thirst,  or  dragged  us  captive  hence : 

Therefore  to  all  this  city  it  is  proclaimed 

That  none  may  bury,  none  make  moan  for  him. 

But  leave  him  lying  all  ghastly  where  he  fell. 

Till  fowls  o'  the  air  and  dogs  have  picked  his  bones. 

So  I  am  purposed;  not  at  least  by  me 

Shall  traitors  be  preferred  to  honest  men: 

But,  whoso  loves  this  city,  him  indeed 

I  shall  not  cease  to  honor,  alive  or  dead. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  109 

Chorus 
Creon,  son  of  Menoeceus,  'tis  thy  pleasure, 
The  friend  and  foe  of  Thebes  so  to  requite: 
And,  whatso  pleases  thee,  that  same  is  law. 
Both  for  our  Theban  dead  and  us  who  hve/ 

Creon 
Look  to  it,  then,  my  bidding  is  performed. 

Chorus 
Upon  some  younger  man  impose  this  burden. 

Creon 
To  watch  the  body,  sentinels  are  set. 

Chorus 
What  service  more  then  wouldst  thou  lay  on  us? 

Creon 
That  ye  resist  whoever  disobeys. 

Chorus 
Who  is  so  senseless  that  desires  to  die? 

Creon 
The  penalty  is  death:  yet  hopes  deceive. 
And  men  wax  foolish  oft  through  greed  of  gain. 

Sentinel    (Entering) 
That  I  come  hither,  king,  nimble  of  foot, 
And  breathless  with  my  haste  I'll  not  profess: 
For  many  a  doubtful  halt  upon  the  way 
And  many  a  wheel  to  the  right-about,  I  had. 
Oft  as  my  prating  heart  gave  counsel,  ''Fool, 
What  ails  thee  going  into  the  lion's  mouth?" 
Then  "Blockhead,  wilt  thou  tarry?  if  Creon  learns 
This  from  another  man,  shalt  thou  not  smart?" 
So  doubtfully  I  fared — much  haste,  scant  speed — 

» He  has  the  power:  they  will  not  say,  he  has  the  right. 


no  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

And,  if  the  way  was  short,  *twas  long  to  me. 
But  to  come  hither  to  thee  prevailed  at  last, 
And,  though  the  speech  be  nought,  yet  I  will  speak. 
For  I  have  come  fast  clutching  at  the  hope 
That  nought's  to  suffer  but  what  fate  decrees. 

Creon 
What  is  it  that  hath  troubled  thus  thy  mind? 

Sentinel 
First  for  myself  let  me  this  say:  the  deed 
I  neither  did,  nor  say  who  was  the  doer, 
And  'twere  not  just  that  I  should  suffer  harm. 

Creon 
Wisely,  thyself  in  covert,  at  the  mark 
Thou  aimest:  some  shrewd  news,  methinks,  thou'lt  tell. 

Sentinel 
Danger  to  face,  well  may  a  man  be  cautious. 

Creon 
■  Speak  then,  and  go  thy  way,  and  make  an  end. 

Sentinel 
Then  will  I  speak.     Some  one  even  now  hath  buried 
The  body  and  is  gone;  with  thirsty  dust 
Sprinkling  it  o'er,  and  paying  observance  due. 

Creon 
How?     By  what  man  was  dared  a  deed  so  rash? 

Sentinel 
I  cannot  tell.     No  mattock's  stroke  indeed. 
Nor  spade's  upcast  was  there;  hard  was  the  ground, 
Baked  dry,  unbroken :  track  of  chariot-wheels 
Was  none,  nor  any  sign  who  did  this  thing. 
But  he  who  kept  the  watch  at  earliest  dawn 
Showed  to  us  all — a  mystery,  hard  to  clear. 
Not  buried  was  the  dead  man,  but  concealed. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  ill 

With  dust  besprinkled,  as  for  fear  of  sin:^ 

And  neither  of  dog  nor  any  beast  of  prey, 

That  came,  that  tore  the  body,  found  we  trace. 

Then  bitter  words  were  bandied  to  and  fro. 

Denouncing  each  the  other;  and  soon  to  blows 

Our  strife  had  grown — was  none  would  keep  the  peace — 

For  every  one  was  guilty  of  the  deed, 

And  none  confessed,  but  all  denied  they  knew. 

So  all  in  vain  we  questioned:  and  at  last 

One  spake,  and  all  who  heard  him,  bowed  by  fear, 

Bent  to  the  earth  their  faces,  knowing  not 

How  to  gainsay,  nor  doing  what  he  said 

How  we  might  'scape  mischance.     This  deed  to  thee 

He  urged  that  we  should  show,  and  hide  it  not. 

And  his  advice  prevailed,  and  by  the  lot 

To  luckless  me  this  privilege  befell. 

Unwilling  and  unwelcome  is  my  errand, 

A  bearer  of  ill  news,  whom  no  man  loves. 

Chorus 

0  king,  my  thought  hath  counselled  me  long  since. 
Haply  this  deed  is  ordered  by  the  gods.' 

Creon 
Cease,  ere  my  wrath  is  kindled  at  thy  speech, 
Lest  thou  be  found  an  old  man  and  a  fool. 
Intolerably  thou  pratest  of  the  gods. 
That  they  to  yonder  dead  man  have  respect. 
Yea,  for  what  service  with  exceeding  honour 
Sought  they  his  burial,  who  came  here  to  burn 
Their  pillared  shrines  and  temple-offerings. 
And  of  their  land  and  of  their  laws  make  havoc? 
Or  seest  thou  that  the  gods  allow  the  wicked? 
Not  so:  but  some  impatient  of  my  will 
Among  my  people  made  a  murmuring. 
Shaking  their  heads  in  secret,  to  the  yoke 

1  Three  handfuls  of  dust  constituted  technical  burial,  and  any  passer-by 
who  refused  so  much  might  fear  the  curse- of  the  dead. 

8  This  is  a  timid  protest  against  Creon's  decree. 


Ill  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

With  stubborn  necks  unbent,  and  hearts  disloyal. 

Full  certainly  I  know  that  they  with  bribes 

Have  on  these  men  prevailed  to  do  this  deed. 

Of  all  the  evils  current  in  this  world 

Most  mischievous  is  gold.     This  hath  laid  waste 

Fair  cities,  and  unpeopled  homes  of  men; 

But,  who  took  hire  to  execute  this  work. 

Wrought  to  his  own  undoing  at  the  last. 

Since,  if  the  dread  of  Zeus  I  still  revere, 

Be  well  assured — and  what  I  speak  I  swear — 

Unless  the  author  of  this  burial 

Ye  find,  and  in  my  sight  produce  him  here. 

For  you  mere  death  shall  not  suffice,  until 

Gibbeted  alive  this  outrage  ye  disclose, 

That  ye  may  know  what  gains  are  worth  the  winning. 

And  henceforth  clutch  the  wiselier,  having  learnt 

That  to  seek  gain  in  all  things  is  not  well. 

Sentinel 
May  I  speak  a  word,  or  thus  am  I  dismissed? 

Creon 
Know*st  thou  not  that  ev'n  now  thy  voice  offends? 

Sentinel 
Alas! 
'Tis  pity  men  should  judge,  yet  judge  amiss. 

Creon 
Talk  you  of  ** judging"  glibly  as  you  may — 
Who  did  this  deed,  I'll  know,  or  ye  shall  own 
That  all  your  wondrous  winnings  end  in  loss. 

Sentinel 
With  all  my  heart  I  wish  he  may  be  found: 
But  found  or  no — for  that's  as  fortune  will — 
I  shall  not  show  my  face  to  you  again. 
Great  cause  I  have  to  thank  the  gracious  gods. 
Saved  past  all  hope  and  reckoning  even  now. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  113 

Omitting  a  choral  song  of  some  length,  we  pass  to  the 

SECOND  EPISODE 

Chorus 

What  strange  portentous  sight  is  this, 

I  doubt  my  eyes,  beholding?     This — 

How  shall  I  gainsay  what  I  know? — 

This  maiden  is — Antigone! 

Daughter  of  OEdipus, 

Hapless  child  of  a  hapless  sire, 

What  hast  thou  done?     It  cannot  be 

That  thou  hast  transgressed  the  king's  command — 

That,  taken  in  folly,  thee  they  bring! 

/^  Sentinel 

This  same  is  she  that  did  the  burial: 

We  caught  her  in  the  act.     But  where 's  the  king? 

Chorus 
Back  from  the  palace  in  good  time  he  comes. 

Creon 
What  chance  is  this,  to  which  my  steps  are  timed? 

Sentinel  ' 

Nothing,  sir  king,  should  men  swear  not  to  do ; 
For  second  thoughts  to  first  thoughts  give  the  lie. 
Hither,  I  made  full  sure,  I  scarce  should  come 
Back,  by  your  threats  berufiled  as  I  was. 
Yet  here,  surprised  by  most  unlooked-for  joy, 
That  trifles  all  delights  that  e'er  I  knew, 
I  bring  you — though  my  coming  breaks  my  oath — 
This  maiden,  whom,  busied  about  the  corpse. 
We  captured.     This  time  were  no  lots  to  throw: 
My  own  good  fortune  this,  and  none  but  mine. 
Now  therefore,  king,  take  her  yourself  and  try  her, 


114  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

And  question  as  you  will :  but  I  have  earned 
Full  clearance  and  acquittal  of  this  coil. 

Creon 
How  was  she  seen,  and  taken  in  the  act? 

Sentinel 

So  it  fell  out.     When  I  had  gone  from  hence, 

With  thy  loud  threats  yet  sounding  in  my  ears. 

We  swept  off  all  the  dust  that  hid  the  Hmbs, 

And  to  the  light  stripped  bare  the  clammy  corpse. 

And  on  the  hill's  brow  sat,  and  faced  the  wind, 

Choosing  a  spot  clear  of  the  body's  stench. 

Roundly  we  chid  each  other  to  the  work; 

'* No' sleeping  at  your  post  there,"  was  our  word. 

So  did  we  keep  the  watch,  till  in  mid-heaven 

The  sun's  bright-burning  orb  above  us  hung. 

With  fierce  noon-heat:  and  now  a  sudden  blast 

Swept,  and  a  storm  of  dust,  that  vexed  the  sky 

And  choked  the  plain,  and  all  the  leaves  o'  the  trees 

O'  the  plain  were  marred,  and  the  wide  heaven  it  filled: 

We  with  shut  eyes  the  heaven-sent  plague  endured. 

And  when,  after  long  time,  its  force  was  spent, 

We  saw  this  maiden,  and  a  bitter  cry 

She  poured,  as  of  a  wailing  bird  that  sees 

Her  empty  nest  dismantled  of  its  brood: 

So  she,  when  she  espied  the  body  bare. 

Cried  out  and  wept,  and  many  a  grievous  curse 

Upon  their  heads  invoked  by  whom  'twas  done. 

And  thirsty  dust  she  sprinkled  with  her  hands, 

And  lifted  up  an  urn,  fair-wrought  of  brass. 

And  with  thrice-poured  libations  crowned  the  dead. 

We  saw  it  and  we  hasted,  and  at  once. 

All  undismayed,  our  captive,  hemmed  her  round. 

And  with  the  two  offences  charged  her  there, 

Both  first  and  last.     Nothing  did  she  deny. 

But  made  me  glad  and  sorry,  owning  all. 

For  to  have  slipped  one's  own  neck  from  the  noose 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  115 

Is  sweet,  yet  no  one  likes  to  get  his  friends 
In  trouble:  but  my  nature  is  to  make 
All  else  of  small  account,  so  I  am  safe.^ 

Creon 
Speak  thou,  who  bendest  on  the  earth  thy  gaze. 
Are  these  things,  which  are  witnessed,  true  or  false? 

Antigone 
Not  false,  but  true:  that  which  he  saw,  he  speaks. 

Creon 
So,  sirrah,  thou  art  free;  go  where  thou  wilt. 
Loosed  from  the  burden  of  this  heavy  charge. 

{Exit  Sentinel) 
But  tell  me  thou — and  let  thy  speech  be  brief — 
The  edict  hadst  thou  heard,  which  this  forbade? 

Antigone 
I  could  not  choose  but  hear  what  all  men  heard. 

Creon 
And  didst  thou  dare  to  disobey  the  law? 

Antigone 
Nowise  from  Zeus,  methought,  this  edict  came, 
Nor  Justice,  that  abides  among  the  gods 
In  Hades,  who  ordained  these  laws  for  men. 
Nor  did  I  deem  thine  edicts  of  such  force 
That  they,  a  mortal's  bidding,  should  override 
Unwritten  laws,  eternal  in  the  heavens. 
Not  of  to-day  or  yesterday  are  these. 
But  live  from  everlasting,  and  from  whence 
They  sprang,  none  knoweth.  I  would  not,  for  the  breach 
Of  these,  through  fear  of  any  human  pride, 
To  heaven  atone.     I  knew  that  I  must  die: 

1  Antigone's  return  here  described  is  almost  more  courageous  than  her 
original  resolve  and  deed.  The  frank  and  light-hearted  selfishness  of  the 
loquacious  guardsman  is  set  in  most  artistic  contrast  with  her  serene  self-sacri- 
nce. 


Ii6  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

How  else?     Without  thine  edict,  that  were  so. 
And  if  before  my  time,  why,  this  were  gain. 
Compassed  about  with  ills  who  lives,  as  I, 
Death,  to  such  life  as  his,  must  needs  be  gain. 
So  is  it  to  me  to  undergo  this  doom 
No  grief  at  all:  but  had  I  left  my  brother, 
My  mother's  child,  unburied  where  he  lay, 
Then  had  I  grieved;  but  now  this  grieves  me  not. 
Senseless  I  seem  to  thee,  so  doing?     Belike 
A  senseless  judgment  finds  me  void  of  sense. 

Chorus 
How  in  the  child  the  sternness  of  the  sire 
Shows  stem,  before  the  storm  untaught  to  bend ! 

Creon 
Yet  know  full  well  that  such  o'er-stubborn  wills 
Are  broken  most  of  all,  as  sturdiest  steel. 
Of  an  untempered  hardness,  fresh  from  forge. 
Most  surely  snapped  and  shivered  should  ye  see. 
Insult  on  insult  heaped!     Was't  not  enough 
My  promulgated  laws  to  have  transgressed, 
But,  having  done  it,  face  to  face  with  me 
She  boasts  of  this  and  glories  in  the  deed? 
I  surely  am  the  woman,  she  the  man, 
If  she  defies  my  power,  and  I  submit. 
Be  she  my  sister's  child,  or  sprung  from  one 
More  near  of  blood  than  all  my  house  to  me. 
Not  so  shall  they  escape  my  direst  doom — 
She  and  her  sister:  for  I  count  her  too 
Guilty  no  less  of  having  planned  this  work. 
Go,  call  her  hither:  in  the  house  I  saw  her 
Raving  ev'n  now,  nor  mistress  of  her  thoughts. 

Antigone 
To  kill  me — wouldst  thou  more  with  me  than  this? 

Creon 
This  is  enough:  I  do  desire  no  more. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  117 

Antigone 
Why  dost  thou  then  delay?     I  have  no  pleasure 
To  hear  thee  speak — have  not  and  would  not  have : 
Nor  less  distasteful  is  my  speech  to  thee. 
Yet  how  could  I  have  won  myself  a  praise 
More  honourable  than  this,  of  burying 
My  brother?     This  from  every  voice  should  win 
Approval,  might  but  fear  men's  lips  unseal. 
But  kings  are  fortunate — not  least  in  this. 
That  they  may  do  and  speak  what  things  they  will. 

Creon 
All  Thebes  sees  this  with  other  eyes  than  thine. 

Antigone 
They  see  as  I,  but  bate  their  breath  to  thee. 

Creon 
And  art  thou  not  ashamed,  from  them  to  differ? 

Antigone 
To  reverence  a  brother  is  not  shameful. 

Creon 
And  was  not  he  who  died  for  Thebes  thy  brother? 

Antigone 
One  mother  bore  us,  and  one  sire  begat. 

Creon 
Yet,  honouring  both,  thou  dost  dishonour  him. 

Antigone 
He  in  the  grave  will  not  subscribe  to  this. 

Creon 
How,  if  no  less  thou  dost  revere  the  guilty? 

Antigone 
*Twas  not  his  slave  that  perished,  but  his  brother. 


ii8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Creon 
The  enemy  of  this  land:  its  champion,  he. 

Antigone 
Yet  Death  of  due  observance  must  not  fail. 

Creon 
Go  to  the  shades,  and,  if  thou*lt  love,  love  there: 
No  woman,  while  I  live,  shall  master  me. 

Chorus 
See,  from  the  palace  comes  Ismene — 
Sisterly  drops  from  her  eyes  down-shedding: 
Clouded  her  brows  droop,  heavy  with  sorrow; 
And  the  blood-red  tinge  of  a  burning  blush 
Covers  her  beautiful  downcast  face. 

Creon 
Thou,  who  hast  crept,  a  serpent  m  my  home, 
Draining  my  blood,  unseen;  and  I  knew  not 
Rearing  two  pests,  to  overset  my  throne; 
Speak — wilt  thou  too  confess  that  in  this  work 
Thou  hadst  a  hand,  or  swear  thou  didst  not  know? 

Ismene 
I'll  say  the  deed  was  mine,  if  she  consents: 
My  share  of  the  blame  I  bear,  and  do  not  shrink. 

Antigone 
Justice  forbids  thy  claim :  neither  didst  thou 
Agree,  nor  I  admit  thee  to  my  counsels. 

Ismene 
I  am  not  ashamed,  in  thine  extremity. 
To  make  myself  companion  of  thy  fate. 

Antigone 
Whose  was  the  deed,  know  Hades  and  the  dead: 
I  love  not  friends,  who  talk  of  friendliness.* 

» li  some  of  Antigone's  speeches  seem  harsh,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
she  is  striving  to  save  her  sister's  life. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  119 

ISMENE 

Sister,  disdain  me  not,  but  let  me  pour 

My  blood  with  thine,  an  offering  to  the  dead. 

Antigone 
Leave  me  to  die  alone,  nor  claim  the  work 
Thou  wouldst  not  help.     My  death  will  be  enough. 

ISMENE 

What  joy  have  I  to  live,  when  thou  art  gone? 

Antigone 
Ask  Creon  that:  thou  art  of  kin  to  him. 

Ismene 
Why  wilt  thou  grieve  me  with  thy  needless  taunts? 

Antigone 
If  I  mock  thee,  'tis  with  a  heavy  heart. 

Ismene 
What  may  I  do  to  serve  thee  even  now? 

Antigone 
Look  to  thyself:  I  grudge  thee  not  thy  safety. 

Creon 
One  of  these  two,  methinks,  proves  foolish  now; 
The  other's  folly  with  her  Hfe  began. 

Ismene 
Nay,  for,  O  king,  misfortunes  of  the  wise 
To  madness  turn  the  wisdom  that  they  have. 

Creon 
'Tis  so  with  thee,  choosing  to  share  her  guilt. 

Ismene 
How  should  I  live  alone,  without  my  sister? 


120  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Creon 
Call  her  not  thine:  thou  hast  no  sister  now. 

ISMENE 

But  wilt  thou  tear  her  from  thy  son's  embrace?  ^ 

Creon 
Are  there  no  women  in  the  world  but  she? 

ISMENE 

Not  as  their  faith  was  plighted,  each  to  each. 

Creon 
An  evil  wife  I  hke  not  for  my  son. 

Antigone 
Hsemon!  beloved!  hear  not  thy  father's  scorn. 

Creon 
Thou  and  thy  love  to  me  are  wearisome. 

Chorus 
Wilt  thou  indeed  snatch  from  thy  son  his  bride? 

Creon 
*Tis  death  that  will  unloose  their  marriage-bond. 

Chorus 
It  seems  thou  art  resolved  that  she  must  die? 

Creon 

Of  that  we  are  agreed.     Delay  no  more: 
Ye,  servants,  lead  them  in.     For  from  this  time 
Women  they  needs  must  be,  and  range  no  more: 
Since  ev'n  the  bold  may  play  the  runaway. 
When  death  he  sees  close-creeping  on  his  life. 

1  This  is  our  first  hint  of  Antigone's  engagement  to  her  cousin  Haemon. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  121 

THIRD  EPISODE 

{The  princesses  are  led  into  the  palace.) 

Chorus 
See,  thy  son  Haemon  comes  hither,  of  all 
Thy  children  the  last.     Comes  he  lamenting 
The  doom  of  the  maiden,  his  bride  Antigone— 
And  the  frustrated  hope  of  his  marriage? 

Creon 
Soon  we  shall  know,  better  than  seers  could  say. 
My  son,  in  anger  art  thou  come  to  me, 
Hearing  the  sentence,  not  to  be  reversed, 
Which  on  thy  destined  bride  I  have  pronounced? 
Or  am  I  still  thy  friend,  do  what  I  may? 

H^MON 

Father,  I  am  in  thy  hand:  with  thy  wise  counsels 
Thou  dost  direct  me;  these  I  shall  obey. 

Creon 
6e  this  thy  dearest  wish  and  next  thy  heart, 
In  all  things  to  uphold  thy  father's  will. 
For  to  this  end  men  crave  to  see  grow  up 
Obedient  children  round  them  in  their  homes. 
Never,  my  son,  let  for  a  woman's  sake 
Reason  give  way  to  sense,  but  know  full  well 
Cold  is  the  pleasure  that  he  clasps,  who  woos 
An  evil  woman  to  his  board  and  bed. 
What  wounds  so  deeply  as  an  evil  friend? 
Count  then  this  maiden  as  thine  enemy. 
Loathe  her,  and  give  her  leave,  in  that  dark  world 
To  which  she  goes,  to  marry  with  another. 
He  who  to  his  own  kith  and  kin  does  right, 
Will  in  the  state  deal  righteously  with  all. 
Of  such  a  man  I  shall  not  fear  to  boast. 
Well  he  can  rule,  and  well  he  would  obey. 
And  in  the  storm  of  battle  at  his  post 


122  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Firm  he  would  stand,  a  comrade  staunch  and  true. 
But  praise  from  me  that  man  shall  never  have, 
Who  either  boldly  thrusts  aside  the  law 
Or  takes  upon  him  to  instruct  his  rulers, 
Whom,  by  the  state  empowered,  he  should  obey. 
In  Httle  and  in  much,  in  right  and  wrong. 
The  worst  of  evils  is  to  disobey. 
Cities  by  this  are  ruined,  homes  of  men 
Made  desolate  by  this;  this  in  the  battle 
Breaks  into  headlong  rout  the  wavering  line; 
The  steadfast  ranks,  the  many  lives  unhurt, 
Are  to  obedience  due.     We  must  defend 
The  government  and  order  of  the  state. 
And  not  be  governed  by  a  wilful  girl. 
We'll  yield  our  place  up,  if  we  must,  to  men; 
To  women  that  we  stooped,  shall  not  be  said. 

Chorus 

Unless  an  old  man's  judgment  is  at  fault, 

These  words  of  thine,  we  deem,  are  words  of  wisdom. 

H.EMON 

Reason,  my  father,  in  the  mind  of  man. 

Noblest  of  all  their  gifts,  the  gods  implant. 

And  how  to  find  thy  reasoning  at  fault, 

I  know  not,  and  to  learn  I  should  be  loth; 

Yet  for  another  it  might  not  be  amiss. 

But  I  for  thee  am  vigilant  to  mark 

All  that  men  say,  or  do,  or  find  to  blame. 

Thy  presence  awes  the  simple  citizen 

From  speaking  words  that  shall  not  please  thine  ear. 

But  I  hear  what  they  whisper  in  the  dark, 

And  how  the  city  for  this  maid  laments, 

That  of  all  women  she  the  least  deserving 

Dies  for  most  glorious  deeds  a  death  most  cruel. 

Who  her  own  brother,  fall'n  among  the  slain. 

Left  not  unburied  there,  to  be  devoured 

By  ravening  dogs  or  any  bird  o'  the  air: — 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  123 

"Should  not  her  deed  be  blazoned  all  in  gold?" 

Upon  the  darkness  still  such  whisper  grows. 

But  I  of  all  possessions  that  I  have 

Prize  most,  my  father,  thy  prosperity. 

Welldoing  and  fair  fame  of  sire  to  son. 

Of  son  to  sire,  is  noblest  ornament. 

Cleave  not,  I  pray  thee,  to  this  constant  mind. 

That  what  thou  sayest,  and  nought  beside,  is  truth 

For  men  who  think  that  only  they  are  wise. 

None  eloquent,  right-minded  none,  but  they. 

Often,  when  searched,  prove  empty.     'Tis  no  shame, 

Ev'n  if  a  man  be  wise,  that  he  should  yet 

Learn  many  things,  and  not  hold  out  too  stiffly. 

Cease  from  thy  wrath;  be  not  inexorable; 

For  if  despite  my  youth  I  too  may  think 

My  thought,  I'll  say  that  best  it  is  by  far 

That  men  should  be  all-knowing  if  they  may, 

But  if — as  oft  the  scale  incHnes  not  so — 

Why  then  by  good  advice  'tis  good  to  learn. 

Chorus 
What  in  thy  son's  speech,  king,  is  seasonable 
'Tis  fit  thou  shouldst  receive:  and  thou  in  his: 
For  there  is  reason  in  the  words  of  both. 

Creon 
Shall  I,  grown  grey  with  age,  be  taught  indeed— 
And  by  this  boy — to  think  what  he  thinks  right.? 

HLemon 
Nothing  that  is  not  right :  though  I  am  young 
Consider  not  my  years,  but  how  I  act. 

Creon 
Whose  business  is't  but  mine  how  Thebes  is  governed? 

H^MON 

A  city  is  none,  that  to  one  man  belongs. 


PORN^^- 


124  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Creon 
Is  it  not  held,  the  city  is  the  king's? 

H^MON 

Finely  thou'dst  rule,  alone,  a  land  dispeopled! 

Creon 
O  hateful  spirit,  ruled  by  a  woman's  will! 

H^MON 

To  no  base  service  wilt  thou  prove  me  bound. 

Creon 
Art  thou  not  pleading  all  the  time  for  her? 

Hjemon 
For  thee  and  me,  and  for  the  gods  below. 

Creon 
Thou  shalt  not  marry  her,  this  side  the  grave. 

H^mon 
If  she  must  die,  she  shall:  but  not  alone. 

Creon 
Art  grown  so  bold,  thou  dost  fly  out  in  threats? 

H^MON 

What  threats,  to  argue  with  a  fooHsh  purpose? 

Creon 
Slave — to  thy  mistress  babble,  not  to  me. 

KLemon 
Would' St  thou  have  all  the  talking  for  thine  own? 

Creon 
Is't  come  to  this?     But,  by  Olympus  yonder. 
Know  well,  thou  shalt  be  sorry  for  these  taunts, 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  115 

Wherewith  thou  dost  upbraid  me.     Slaves,  what  ho! 

Bring  that  abhorrence  hither,  that  she  may  die. 

Now,  in  her  bridegroom's  sight,  whilst  here  he  stands. 

HiEMON 

Neither  in  my  sight — imagine  no  such  thing — 
Shall  she  be  slain;  nor  shalt  thou  from  this  hour 
Look  with  thine  eyes  upon  my  face  again: 
To  friends  who  love  thy  madness  I  commit  thee. 

(Exit.) 

y  Chorus 

Suddenly,  sire,  in  anger  he  is  gone. 
Young  minds  grow  desperate,  by  grief  distempered. 

Creon 
More  than  a  man  let  him  conceive  and  do; 
He  shall  not  save  these  maidens  from  their  doom 

Chorus 
Both  sisters  art  thou  purposed  to  destroy? 

Creon 
Not  her  whose  hands  sinned  not;  thou  askest  well. 

Chorus 
What  of  the  other?  how  shall  she  be  slain? 

Creon 
By  paths  untrodden  of  men  I  will  conduct  her, 
And  shut  her,  living,  in  a  vault,  rock-hewn. 
And  there,  with  food,  no  more  than  shall  suffice 
To  avert  the  guilt  of  murder  from  the  city. 
To  Hades,  the  one  god  whom  she  reveres, 
She,  praying  not  to  die,  either  shall  have 
Her  asking,  or  shall  learn,  albeit  too  late, 
That  to  revere  the  dead  is  fruitless  toil. 

{Exit.) 


26  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus    (Sings.) 

0  Love,  our  conqueror,  matchless  in  might, 
Thou  prevailest,  O  Love,  thou  dividest  the  prey 
In  damask  cheeks  of  a  maiden 

Thy  watch  through  the  night  is  set. 

Thou  roamest  over  the  sea; 

On  the  hills,  in  the  shepherd's  huts,  thou  art; 

Nor  of  deathless  gods,  nor  of  short-lived  men, 

From  thy  madness  any  escapeth. 

Unjust,  through  thee,  are  the  thoughts  of  the  just. 

Thou  dost  bend  them,  O  Love,  to  thy  will,  to  thy  spite. 

Unkindly  strife  thou  hast  kindled, 

This  wrangling  of  son  with  sire. 

The  fountains  of  my  tears 

1  can  refrain  no  more. 

Seeing  Antigone  here  to  the  bridal  chamber 
Come,  to  the  all-receiving  chamber  of  Death 

FOURTH  EPISODE 

Antigone    (Led  to  the  tomb.) 

Friends  and  my  countrymen,  ye  see  me 
Upon  the  last  of  all  my  ways 
Set  forth,  the  Sun-god's,  latest  light 
Beholding,  now  and  never  more: 
And  me  no  bridal  song  hath  ever  sung. 
But  Acheron  will  make  of  me  his  bride 

Chorus 

Therefore  renowned,  with  praise  of  men, 
To  yonder  vault  o'  the  dead  thou  goest. 
By  no  slow-wasting  sickness  stricken, 
Nor  doomed  to  fall  with  those  who  win 
The  wages  of  the  swords  they  drew. 
But,  being  to  thyself  a  law. 
Alone  of  mortals  the  dark  road 
To  deathward,  living,  thou  shalt  tread 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  127 

Antigone 
O  Thebes,  my  city! 
O  wealthy  men  of  Thebes! 
But  ye  will  witness — yes,  to  you  I  turn — 
O  fount  Dircaean,  and  this  sacred  grove 
Of  Thebe  the  fair-charioted. 
By  what  stern  law,  and  how  of  friends  unwept, 
To  that  strange  grave  I  go. 
The  massy  dungeon  for  my  burial  heaped. 
O  luckless  wight, 

Exiled  from  earth  nor  housed  below. 
Both  by  the  living  and  the  dead  disowned! 

Chorus 
To  furthest  brink  of  boldness  thou  didst  stray. 
And  stumbling  there,  at  foot  of  Justice's  throne, 
Full  heavily,  my  daughter,  hast  thou  fallen: 
Yet  of  thy  father's  fault  belike 
This  suffering  pays  the  price. 

Antigone 
Thou  hast  touched,  ev'n  there,  my  bitterest  pang  of  all, 
A  thrice-told  tale,  my  father's  grief — 
And  all  our  grievous  doom. 

Chorus 
Religion  prompts  the  reverent  deed: 
But  power,  to  whomso  power  belongs. 
Must  nowise  be  transgressed;  and  thee 
A  self-willed  temper  hath  o'erthrown. 

Antigone 

0  tomb!     O  nuptial  chamber!     O  house  deep-delved 
In  earth,  safe-guarded  ever!     To  thee  I  come. 

And  to  my  kin  in  thee,  who  many  an  one 
Are  with  Persephone,  dead  among  the  dead: 
And  last  of  all,  most  miserably  by  far, 

1  thither  am  going,  ere  my  Ufe's  term  be  done 


2  8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

But  a  good  hope  I  cherish,  that,  come  there, 

My  father's  love  will  greet  me,  yea  and  thine, 

My  mother — and  thy  welcome,  brother  dear: 

Since,  when  ye  died,  I  with  mine  own  hands  laved 

And  dressed  your  limbs,  and  poured  upon  your  graves 

Libations;  and  like  service  done  to  thee 

Hath  brought  me,  Polynices,  now  to  this. 

Yet  well  I  honoured  thee,  the  wise  will  say: 

Yet  I  transgressed— what  ordinance  of  heaven? 

Why  to  the  gods,  ill-fated,  any  more 

Should  I  look  up — whom  call  to  succour — since 

Impiety  my  piety  is  named? 

But,  if  these  things  are  pleasing  to  the  gods, 

I'll  freely  own  I  suffered  for  my  fault; 

If  theirs  the  fault,  who  doomed  me,  may  to  them 

No  worse  befall  than  they  unjustly  do! 

Chorus 
Stormily  still  o'er  the  soul  of  the  maiden 
The  self-same  gusts  of  passion  sweep. 

Creon 
Therefore,  I  warn  them,  ruth  for  their  lingering, 
To  those  who  lead  her,  this  shall  cause. 

Antigone 
Short  shrift,  swift  death — ah!  woe  is  me — 
This  speech  portends. 

Creon 
Lay  to  thy  soul  no  flattering  hope. 
That  unfulfilled  this  doom  may  be. 

Antigone 
O  country  of  Thebes  and  my  father's  city, 
And  gods  my  progenitors, 
Lo,  how  they  lead  me — now,  and  delay  not. 
O  all  ye  princes  of  Thebes,  behold  me — 
Of  the  race  of  your  kings,  me,  sole  surviving — 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  129 

What  things  at  the  hands  of  what  men  I  suffer 

For  the  fear  of  the  gods  I  feared. 

Because  I  feared  to  cast  away  the  fear  of  Heaven. 

(Exeunt.) 

FIFTH  EPISODE 
(Enter  Teiresias,  the  blind  seer.) 
Teiresias 
Princes  of  Thebes,  we  come — one  sight  for  both 
Our  common  road  descrying,  as  behooves 
Bhnd  men  to  find  their  way  by  help  of  others. 

Creon 
What  tidings,  old  Teiresias,  dost  thou  bring? 

Teiresias 
Hear  then  the  prophet,  and  attend  his  speech. 

Creon 
Have  I  aforetime  from  thy  wisdom  swerved? 

Teiresias 
So,  clear  of  shoals,  thou  pilotest  the  state. 

Creon 
The  service  thou  hast  rendered  I  attest. 

Teiresias 
Once  more  on  razor's  edge  thy  fortunes  stand. 

Creon 
Hearing  thy  speech,  I  shudder:  tell  me  more. 

Teiresias 
My  art's  prognostications  hear  and  judge. 
For  in  my  ancient  seat,  to  watch  the  birds 
In  that  their  general  gathering-place,  I  sat, 
And  heard  an  unintelligible  noise, 
A  cry  and  clangour  of  birds,  confused  with  rage;       ^ 


130  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Scared  by  that  sound,  burnt-offerings  I  then 

Essayed  on  blazing  altars;  but  no  flame 

Leapt  from  the  sacrifice;  a  clammy  ooze 

Reeked  from  the  thighs,  and  'mid  the  ashes  dripped. 

This  from  this  boy  I  heard,  whose  eyes  beheld 

The  failing  signs  of  sacrifice  obscure: 

Others  by  me  are  guided,  I  by  him. 

And  by  thy  will  we  are  afilicted  thus. 

For  now  our  hearths  and  altars  every  one 

Have  ravening  dogs  and  birds  fouled  with  the  flesh 

Of  this  poor  fallen  son  of  (Edipus; 

And  so  no  flame  of  victims  burnt  may  move 

Gods  any  more  to  hearken  to  our  prayers. 

And  birds  obscene  flap  forth  a  bodeful  cry. 

With  fat  of  human  carrion  newly  gorged. 

Slight  not,  my  son,  such  warning.     For  all  men. 

Both  great  and  small,  are  liable  to  err: 

But  he  who  errs  no  more  unfortunate 

Or  all  unwise  shall  be,  if  having  tripped 

He  rights  the  wrong  nor  stubbornly  persists. 

He  who  persists  in  folly  is  the  fool. 

Give  death  his  due:  stab  not  the  fallen  foe: 

What  valour  is  in  this,  to  slay  the  slain? 

Wisely  I  speak  and  well;  and  sweet  it  is 

To  hear  good  counsel,  when  it  counsels  gain. 

Creon 
Old  man,  ye  all,  as  bowmen  at  a  mark 
Shoot  at  this  man,  and  with  your  prophecies 
Ye  practice  on  me  too,  and  mine  own  kin 
Mere  merchandise  and  sale  work  make  of  me. 
Go  to,  but  him,  I  say,  ye  shall  not  bury: 
No,  not  if  eagles,  ministers  of  Zeus, 
Should  bear  him  piecemeal  to  their  Master's  throne. 
Will  I,  for  fear  of  such  pollution,  grant 
Leave  for  his  burial,^  knowing  well  that  men 
Soil  not  the  stainless  majesty  of  heaven. 

*    1  The  king,  whose  mind  is  as  changeful  as  it  is  violent,  instantly  realizes 
the  impiety  o?  this  utterance,  and  half  retracts  it. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  131 

But,  aged  seer,  the  wisest  of  mankind 
Dishonourably  may  fall,  who  fairly  speak 
Dishonourable  words,  and  all  for  gain. 

Creon 
Unlock  them,  only  speaking  not  for  gain. 

Teiresias 
So,  for  thy  part  indeed,  methinks  I  shall. 

Creon 
Think  not  that  in  my  purpose  thou  shalt  trade. 

Teiresias 
But  surely  know  that  thou  not  many  more 
Revolving  courses  of  the  sun  shalt  pass. 
Ere  to  thine  own  blood  one,  to  make  amends. 
Dead  for  the  dead,  thou  shalt  have  rendered  up. 
For  that  a  living  soul  thou  hast  sent  below. 
And  with  dishonour  in  the  grave  hast  lodged. 
And  that  one  dead  thou  boldest  here  cut  off 
From  presence  of  the  gods  who  reign  below, 
All  rites  of  death,  all  obsequies  denied — 
With  whom  thou  shouldst  not  meddle,  nor  the  gods 
In  heaven,  but  of  their  due  thou  robb'st  the  dead. 
Therefore  The  Avengers  of  Hades  and  the  gods  wait 
For  thee  with  ruin  slow  yet  sure, 
To  take  thee  in  the  pit  which  thou  hast  dug. 
Do  I  speak  this  for  gold?     Thyself  shalt  judge: 
For,  yet  a  little  while,  and  wailings  loud 
Of  men  and  women  in  thy  house  shall  show. 
So  like  a  bowman  have  I  launched  at  thee 
In  wrath, — for  thou  provok'st  me, — shafts  indeed 
To  pierce  thy  heart,  and  fail  not,  from  whose  smart 
Thou'lt  not  escape.     But  now,  boy,  lead  me  home. 
That  he  may  vent  his  spleen  on  younger  men. 
And  learn  to  keep  a  tongue  more  temperate. 
And  in  his  breast  a  better  mind  than  now. 

(Exit.) 


132  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus 
The  man  has  prophesied  dread  things,  O  king, 
And  gone :  and  never  have  I  known — not  since 
These  temples  changed  their  raven  locks  to  snow — 
That  aught  of  false  this  city  heard  from  him. 

Creon 
Yea,  this  I  know,  and  much  am  I  perplexed: 
For  hard  it  is  to  yield,  but  standing  firm 
I  fear  to  pluck  swift  ruin  on  my  pride. 

Chorus 
Son  of  Menoeceus,  be  advised  in  time. 

Creon 
Say  then,  what  must  I  do?  and  I'll  obey. 

Chorus 
Go,  from  her  prison  in  the  rock  release 
The  maiden,  and  the  unburied  corpse  inter. 

Creon 
Dost  thou  think  this,  and  wouldst  thou  have  me  yield? 

Chorus 
Yea,  king,  and  quickly;  for  the  gods  cut  short 
With  sudden  scathe  the  foolishness  of  men. 

Creon 
Hardly  indeed,  but  yet  with  forced  consent 
ril  do  it,  stooping  to  necessity. 

Chorus 
Do  it,  and  go;  leave  not  this  task  to  others. 

Creon 
Even  as  I  am.  Til  go;  and,  servants,  haste. 
That  hear  and  hear  me  not;  axes  in  hand, 
All  to  yon  spot,  far-seen,  make  good  your  speed. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  133 

But  I,  since  this  way  now  my  mind  is  bent, 
Whom  I  myself  have  bound,  myself  will  loose. 
For  now  my  heart  misgives  me,  he  lives  best, 
Whose  feet  depart  not  from  the  ancient  ways. 

{Exit.y 

Convinced  that  the  danger  is  now  averted,  the  chorus 
sing  a  confident  hymn  of  supplication  to  Bacchus,  the 
especial  local  divinity  of  Thebes.  During  this  song  sev- 
eral hours  must  be  supposed  to  elapse. 

EXODUS 

Messenger    {Entering.) 
Neighbors  of  Cadmus,^  and  the  royal  house 
Of  old  Amphion,^  no  man's  life  would  I, 
How  high  or  low  soever,  praise  or  blame. 
Since,  who  to-day  has  fortune,  good  or  ill, 
To-morrow's  fortune  lifts  or  lays  him  low; 
For  Creon  before  was  happy,  as  I  deemed; 
Now  all  is  lost.     For  when  the  joys  of  life 
Men  have  relinquished,  no  more  Ufe  indeed. 

Chorus 
Of  what  grief  now  of  princes  wilt  thou  tell? 

Messenger 
Hsemon  is  dead:  his  death  no  stranger's  act. 

Chorus 
Slain  by  himself,  or  by  his  father's  hand? 

Messenger 
Wroth  with  his  pitiless  sire,  he  slew  himself. 

1  The  King  sets  forth;  but,  perverse  to  the  last,  he  waits  to  see  the  dead 
buried,  and  lets  slip  the  time  when  the  living  might  yet  have  been  rescued, 

2  Ancient  kings  and  founders  of  Thebes, 


134  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus 
Lo,  hard  at  hand  the  miserable  queen, 
Eurydice:  who  from  the  house  comes  forth 
Either  by  chance,  or  hearing  of  her  son. 

Eurydice    {From  the  palace.) 
Good  townsmen,  all,  your  conference  I  heard, 
As  to  the  doors  I  came,  intending  now 
Of  Pallas  to  entreat  her  heavenly  aid. 
But  tell  me  now  your  tidings  once  again — 
For,  not  unlearned  in  sorrow,  I  shall  hear. 

Messenger 
Dear  mistress,  I  will  tell  thee  what  I  saw. 
And  not  leave  out  one  word  of  all  the  truth. 
Thy  husband  hence  I  followed  at  the  heels 
To  that  high  plain,  where  torn  by  dogs  the  body 
Of  Polynices  lay,  unpitied  still. 
A  prayer  we  said  to  Hecate*  in  the  way 
And  Pluto,  their  displeasure  to  refrain. 
Then,  sprinkling  with  pure  water,  in  new-stript  boughs 
Wrapped  round  and  burned  the  fragments  that  remained. 
A  lofty  funeral-mound  of  native  earth 
We  heaped  for  him;  then  sought  the  maiden's  bed, 
Her  bridal  bed  with  Hades  in  the  rock. 
And  from  afar  a  voice  of  shrill  lament 
About  the  unhallowed  chamber  some  one  heard, 
And  came  to  Creon,  and  told  it  to  his  lord. 
And  in  his  ears,  approaching,  the  wild  cry 
Rang  doubtfully,  till  now  there  brake  from  him 
A  word  of  sharp  despair,  **0  wretched  man. 
What  fear  is  at  my  heart?  and  am  I  going 
The  wofuUest  road  that  ever  I  have  gone? 
It  is  my  son's  voice  greets  me.     Good  servants,  go. 
Go  nearer  quickly;  and  standing  by  the  tomb. 
Even  to  the  throat  of  the  vault  peer  through  and  look, 
Where  the  wrenched  stonework  gapes,  if  Haemon's  voice 
1  Goddess  of  roads  and  crossways,  injured  by  the  neglect  of  the  corpse. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  135 

I  recognize  indeed,  or  by  the  gods 

Am  cheated!"     Crazed  with  his  fear,  he  spake;  and  we 

Looked  as  he  bade;  and  in  the  last  of  the  tomb 

We  saw  the  maiden — hanged:  about  her  neck 

Some  shred  of  Hnen  had  served  her  for  a  noose: 

And  fallen  upon  her,  clasping  her,  he  lay, 

Wailing  his  wasted  passion  in  the  grave, 

His  fatal  father,  and  his  luckless  bride. 

His  father  saw,  and  crying  a  bitter  cry 

Went  in,  and  with  a  lamentable  voice 

Called  him,  **0  rash,  what  is  it  that  thou  hast  done? 

What  wouldst  thou?   On  what  madness  hast  thou  rushed? 

My  son,  come  forth:  I  pray  thee — I  implore." 

But  with  fierce  eyes  the  boy  glared  at  his  sire 

And  looks  of  loathing,  and  for  answer  plucked 

Forth  a  two-hilted  sword,  and  would  have  struck, 

But  missed  him,  as  he  fled:  and  in  that  minute, 

Wroth  with  himself,  in  his  own  side  amain 

Thrust  deep  the  steel,  unhappy;  and  conscious  still 

Folded  the  maiden  in  his  fainting  arms ; 

Then,  gasping  out  his  life  in  one  sharp  breath. 

Pelted  her  pale  cheek  with  the  crimson  shower. 

Dead  with  the  dead  he  lies,  such  nuptial  rites 

In  halls  of  Hades,  luckless,  having  won. 

Chorus 
How  should  one  deem  of  this.     The  queen,  without 
A  word,  of  good  or  evil,  has  gone  hence. 

Messenger 
Indeed,  'tis  strange;  but  yet  I  feed  on  hope 
That  to  lament  in  public  for  her  son 
She  will  not  deign;  but,  as  for  private  sorrow. 
Will  charge  her  women  in  the  house  to  weep. 
She  is  well  tried  in  prudence,  not  to  fail. 

Chorus 
I  know  not;  but  to  me  the  too-much  silence. 
No  less  than  clamorous  grief,  seems  perilous, 


136  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Messenger 
I  will  go  hence  to  the  house,  and  know,  if  aught 
Of  secret  purpose  in  her  raging  heart 
She  hath  kept  locked  from  us.     Thou  sayest  well: 
The  too-much  silence  may  bode  mischief  too. 

Chorus 
Lo,  the  king  comes  hither  himself,  in  his  hands 
The  record,  not  doubtful  its  purport,  bearing; 
No  grief  (I  dare  say)  wrought  by  another. 
But  the  weight  of  his  own  misdoing. 

Creon 
Alas,  my  purblind  wisdom's  fatal  fault. 
Stubborn,  and  fraught  with  death! 
Ye  see  us,  sire  and  son. 
The  slayer  and  the  slain. 
O  counsels  all  unblest! 
Alas  for  thee,  my  son, 
So  young  a  life  and  so  untimely  quenched — 
Gone  from  me,  past  recall — 
Not  by  thy  folly,  but  my  own  I 

Chorus 
Ah,  how  too  late  thou  dost  discern  the  truth ! 

Creon 
Yea,  to  my  cost  I  know:  but  then,  methinks, 
Oh,  then  some  god  with  crushing  weight 
Leapt  on  me,  drave  me  into  frantic  ways. 
Trampling,  alas  for  me. 
In  the  base  dust  my  ruined  joy. 
O  toil  and  trouble  of  mortals — trouble  and  toil ! 

Second  Messenger 
Trouble,  O  king,  thine  own  and  none  but  thine. 
Thou  comest,  methinks,  part  bearing  in  thy  hands; 
Part — in  the  house  thou  hast,  and  soon  shalt  see. 


Sophocles  and  the  Antigone  137 

Creon 
What  more,  what  worse  than  evil,  yet  remains? 

Second  Messenger 
Thy  wife  is  dead,  with  desperate  hand  ev'n  now 
Self-slain,  for  this  dead  son  for  whom  she  lived. 

Creon 
O  harbour  of  Hades,  never  to  be  appeased. 
Why  art  thou  merciless? 
What  heavy  news  is  this? 
Harsh  news  to  me  of  grief. 
That  slays  me,  slain  before! 
A  woful  word  indeed. 

Telling  of  slaughter  upon  slaughter  heaped, 
To  me,  the  twice-bereaved. 
At  one  fell  swoop,  of  son  and  wife! 

Creon 
Oh  lead  me  hence,  unprofitable;  who  thee 
Unwittingly  have  slain. 

Child,  and  my  wife,  unhappy;  and  know  not  now 
Which  way  to  look  to  either:  for  all  things 
Are  crooked  that  I  handle,  and  a  fate 
Intolerable  upon  my  life  hath  leapt. 

Chorus 
First  of  all  happiness  far  is  wisdom. 
And  to  the  gods  that  one  fail  not  of  piety. 
But  great  words  of  the  overweening 
Lay  great  stripes  to  the  backs  of  the  boasters; 
Taught  by  adversity, 
Old  age  learns,  too  late,  to  be  wise. 

Perhaps  the  poet  felt  this  last  scene  necessary,  in  order 
that  he,  or  the  just  gods,  may  side  unmistakably  with 
Antigone,  overwhelming  Creon  in  a  doom  far  worse  than 
hers.     Her  utter  loneliness,   the  absence  of  assurance, 


138  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

uttered  to  her  by  any  one,  that  her  deed  is  and  will  be 
fully  appreciated,  gives  a  certain  austerity  to  the  whole 
drama.  Either  ^schylus  or  Euripides  would  have  intro- 
duced some  divine  character  to  justify  her  most  completely. 
But  few  readers  will  regret  even  the  loneliness  that  sets, 
as  it  were,  upon  an  even  loftier  pedestal  the  generous 
heroism  of  this  all  but  faultless  maid.  Neither  ancient 
nor  modern  poet  has  delineated  a  nobler  nature. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  version  here  used  for  the  "Antigone"  is  Whitelaw's, 
which  is  warmly  praised  by  Jebb.  Campbell  and  Plumptre  have 
also  rendered  the  seven  plays.  Professor  Jebb's  masterly  prose 
translation  appeared,  originally,  facing  the  Greek  text,  in  his 
exhaustive  edition  of  Sophocles  in  seven  luxurious  volumes. 
Those  volumes  also  contain  the  best  introductions,  and  literary 
criticism  generally,  that  the  works  of  Sophocles  have  ever  received. 
This  translation  has  just  been  made  accessible,  in  a  single  vol- 
ume (published  by  Macmillan),  to  those  who  are  not  students  of 
Greek. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

EURIPIDES  AND  THE  ALCESTIS 

The  Glory  of  Self-Sacrifice. 

Euripides  is  in  many  ways  the  most  modern  of  all 
Greeks.  The  pathos  of  common  life,  the  heroism  shown 
especially  by  those  in  humble  station,  often  accorded  ill 
with  the  stately  robes,  the  mask  and  buskin,  of  the  tra- 
ditional drama.  While  ^schylus  feels  the  resistless 
sweep  of  righteous  law  divine,  and  Sophocles  at  least 
trusts  that  man,  master  of  his  own  soul,  may  learn  wis- 
dom through  suffering,  Euripides  is  hopelessly  perplexed 
by  the  contradictions  of  life.  If  gods  there  be,  he  seems 
to  say,  they  must  be  quarrelsome,  their  rule  chaotic.  He 
has  even  been  seriously  accused,  in  our  own  day,  of  an 
effort  to  undermine  all  beHef  in  the  very  Olympic  divini- 
ties whom  he  is  so  fond  of  using  for  spectacular  effect, 
or  to  cut  the  knot  of  the  tragic  plot. 

His  happiest  play,  which  is  also  the  popular  favorite, 
is  the  oldest  one  of  his  preserved,  having  been  performed 
in  438  B.C.,  before  the  terrible  war  with  Sparta  began  to 
sadden  all  hearts.  It  is,  furthermore,  the  afterpiece: — 
the  fourth  in  the  group  of  dramas  written  by  the  poet  to 
be  performed  together.  Hence,  though  by  no  means 
comic  as  a  whole,  it  contains  many  lighter  touches,  and 
a  happy  finale. 

The  scene  is  before  the  palace  of  King  Admetus, 
whose  wife  has  consented  to  die  this  day  in  his  stead. 

139 


140  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

On  this  same  morning  divine  Apollo's  year  of  exile  and 
servitude,  as  Admetus'  herdsman,  ends.  An  attentive 
reading  of  the  play  will  clear  up  nearly  all  obscurities. 

ALCESTIS 

{Enter  Apollo,  from  the  palace.) 

Apollo 
Halls  of  Admetus,  where  I  stooped  my  pride 
To  brook  the  fare  of  serfs,  yea  I,  a  God; — 
The  fault  was  fault  of  Zeus:  he  slew  my  son 
Asklepius — hurled  the  levin  through  his  heart. 
Wroth  for  the  dead,  his  smiths  of  heavenly  fire 
I  slew,  the  Cyclopes;  and,  for  blood-atonement. 
Serf  to  a  mortal  man  my  father  made  me. 
To  this  land  came  I,  tended  mine  host's  kine. 
And  warded  still  his  house  unto  this  day. 
Righteous  myself,  I  lighted  on  the  righteous. 
The  son  of  Pheres:  him  I  snatched  from  death. 
Cozening  the  Fates :  to  me  the  Sisters  ^  pledged  them 
That  imminent  death  Admetus  should  escape 
If  he  for  ransom  gave  another  life. 
To  all  he  went — all  near  and  dear, — and  asked 
Grey  sire,  the  mother  that  had  given  him  life; 
But,  save  his  wife,  found  none  that  would  consent 
For  him  to  die  and  never  more  see  light. 
Now  in  his  arms  upborne  within  yon  home 
She  gaspeth  forth  her  life :  for  on  this  day 
Her  weird^  it  is  to  die  and  part  from  life. 
I,  lest  pollution  taint  me  in  their  house. 
Go  forth  to  yonder  hall's  beloved  roof. 

1  The  three  tates. 

2  Fortune,  fate. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  141 

{Enter  Death.) 

Lo,  yonder  Death! — I  see  him  nigh  at  hand, 
Priest  of  the  dead,  who  comes  to  hale  her  down 
To  Hades'  halls — well  hath  he  kept  his  time, 
Watching  this  day,  whereon  she  needs  must  die. 

Death 

Ha,  thou  at  the  palace ! — Wilt  not  make  room, 
Phoebus? — thou  wrestest  the  right  yet  again. 
Thou  removest  the  landmarks  of  Gods  of  Gloom. 
And  thou  makest  their  honours  vain. 
Did  this  not  suffice  thee,  to  thwart  that  doom 
Of  Admetus,  when  all  by  thy  cunning  beguiled 
Were  the  Fates,  that  thou  now  must  be  warding  the  wife 
With  thine  hand  made  ready  the  bowstring  to  strain. 
Though  she  pledged  her  from  death  to  redeem  with  her  life 
Her  lord — she,  Pehas*  child? 

Apollo 
Fear  not :  fair  words  and  justice  are  with  me. 

Death 
Justice  with  thee! — what  needeth  then  the  bow? 

Apollo 

This? — 'tis  my  wont  to  bear  it  evermore. 

Death 
Yea,  and  to  aid  yon  house  in  lawless  wise. 

Apollo 
Mine  heart  is  heavy  for  my  friend's  mischance. 

Death 
What,  wilt  thou  wrest  from  me  this  second  corpse? 

Apollo 
Nay,  not  that  other  did  I  take  by  force. 


142  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Death 
Not? — why  on  earth  then? — why  not  underground? 

Apollo 
She  was  his  ransom,  she  for  whom  thou  earnest. 

Death 
Yea,  and  will  hale  her  deep  beneath  the  earth. 

Apollo 
So  then  thou  wilt  not  grant  this  grace  to  me? 

Death 
Nay  surely — dost  not  know  my  wonted  way? 

Apollo 
Surely  thou  shalt  forbear,  though  ruthless  thou, 
So  mighty  a  man  ^  to  Pheres'  hall  shall  come. 
By  force  yon  woman  shall  he  wrest  from  thee. 
Yea,  thou  of  me  shalt  have  no  thank  for  this. 
And  yet  shalt  do  it,  and  shalt  have  mine  hate. 

(ExU  Apollo.) 

Death 
Talk  on,  talk  on;  no  profit  shalt  thou  win. 
This  woman  down  to  Hades*  halls  shall  pass. 
For  her  I  go:  my  sword  shall  seal  her  ours* 
For  sacred  to  the  Nether  Gods  is  he. 
He  from  whose  head  this  sword  hath  shorn  the  hair. 

(Exit  Death.) 

(Enter  Chorus,  dividing  to  right  and  left,  so  that  the  sections 
answer  one  another  till  they  unite.) 

Half-Chorus  i 
What  meaneth  this  hush  afront  of  the  hall? 
The  home  of  Admetus,  why  voiceless  all? 

1  Heracles. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  143 

Half-Chorus  2 
No  friend  of  the  house  who  should  speak  of  its  phght 
Is  nigh,  who  should  bid  that  we  raise  the  keen  ^ 
For  the  dead,  or  should  tell  us  that  yet  on  the  light 
Alcestis  looketh,  and  liveth  the  Queen, 
The  daughter  of  Pelias,  the  noblest,  I  ween, 

Yea,  in  all  men's  sight 
The  noblest  of  women  on  earth  that  have  been. 

Half-Chorus  i 
Or  hearest  thou  mourning  or  sighing 

Or  beating  of  hands, 
Or  the  wail  of  bereaved  ones  outcrying? 
No  handmaid  stands 
At  the  palace-gate. 
O  Healer,  appear  for  the  dying,  appear  as  a  bright  bird 
flying 

Twixt  the  surges  of  fate! 

Half-Chorus  2 
Ah,  they  would  not  be  hushed,  had  the  life  of  her  flown ! 

Half-Chorus  i 
Not  forth  of  the  doors  is  the  death-train  gone 

{Enter  Handmaid.) 

But  hither  cometh  of  the  handmaids  one, 
Weeping  the  while.     What  tidings  shall  I  hear? 
— To  grieve  at  all  mischance  unto  thy  lords 
May  be  forgiven;  but  if  thy  lady  lives 
Or  even  now  hath  passed,  fain  would  we  know. 

Handmaid 
She  liveth,  and  is  dead:  both  may'st  thou  say 

Chorus 
Ay  so? — how  should  the  same  be  dead  and  live? 

1  Dirge,  lamentation. 


144  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Handmaid 
Even  now  she  droopeth,  gasping  out  her  life. 

Chorus 
Are  all  things  meet,  the.i,  being  done  for  her? 

Handmaid 
Yea,  ready  is  her  burial-attire. 

Chorus 
Let  her  be  sure  that  glorious  she  dies 
And  noblest  woman  'neath  the  sun's  wide  way. 

Handmaid 
Noblest? — how  not? — what  tongue  will  dare  gainsay? 
What  must  the  woman  be  who  passeth  her? 
How  could  a  wife  give  honour  to  her  lord 
More  than  by  yielding  her  to  die  for  him? 
And  this — yea,  all  the  city  knoweth  this. 
But  what  within  she  did,  hear  thou,  and  marvel. 
For  when  she  knew  that  the  appointed  day 
Was  come,  in  river-water  her  white  skin 
She  bathed,  and  from  the  cedar-chest  took  forth 
Vesture  and  jewels,  and  decked  her  gloriously. 
And  stood  before  the  hearth,  and  prayed,  and  said :  * 
** Queen,  for  I  pass  beneath  the  earth,  I  fall 
Before  thee  now,  and  nevermore,  and  pray: — 
Be  mother  to  my  orphans:  mate  with  him 
A  loving  wife,  with  her  a  noble  husband. 
Nor,  as  their  mother  dieth,  so  may  they, 
My  children,  die  untimely,  but  with  weal 
In  the  home-land  fill  up  a  life  of  bliss.'* 
To  all  the  altars  through  Admetus'  halls 
She  went;  with  wreaths  she  hung  them,  and  she  prayed, 
Plucking  the  while  the  tresses  of  the  myrtle, 
Tearless,  unsighing,  and  the  imminent  fate 
Changed  not  the  lovely  rose-tint  of  her  cheek. 
Then  to  her  bower  she  rushed,  fell  on  the  bed; 

1  The  prayer  is  to  Hestia  or  Vesta,  the  goddess  of  the  heartbside. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  145 

And  there,  O  there  she  wept,  and  thus  she  speaks: 
'*0  couch,  whereon  I  loosed  the  maiden  zone 
For  this  man,  for  whose  sake  I  die  to-day. 
Farewell:  I  hate  thee  not.     Me  hast  thou  lost, 
Me  only:  loth  to  fail  thee  and  my  lord 
I  die :  but  thee  another  bride  shall  own, 
Not  more  true-hearted;  happier  perchance." 
Then  falls  thereon,  and  kisses:  all  the  bed 
Is  watered  with  the  flood  of  melting  eyes. 
But  having  wept  her  fill  of  many  tears, 
Drooping  she  goeth,  reehng  from  the  couch; 
Yet  oft,  as  forth  the  bower  she  passed,  returned. 
And  flung  herself  again  upon  the  couch. 
And  the  babes,  clinging  to  their  mother's  robes. 
Were  weeping;  and  she  clasped  them  in  her  arms. 
Fondling  now  this,  now  that,  as  one  death-doomed. 
And  all  the  servants  'neath  the  roof  were  weeping. 
Pitying  their  lady.     But  to  each  she  stretched 
Her  right  hand  forth;  and  none  there  was  so  mean 
To  whom  she  spake  not  and  received  reply. 
Such  are  the  ills  Admetus'  home  within. 

Chorus 
Doth  not  Admetus  groan  for  this  affliction 
Of  such  a  noble  wife  to  be  bereft.? 

Handmaid 
Ay,  weeps,  and  clasps  his  dear  one  in  his  arms. 
And  prays,  '* Forsake  me  not!" — asking  the  while 
The  impossible,  for  still  she  wanes  and  wastes, 
Drooping  her  hand,  a  misery-burdened  weight. 
But  yet,  albeit  hardly  breathing  now. 
To  the  sun's  rays  fain  would  she  lift  her  eyes. 
But  I  will  go  and  make  thy  presence  known: 
For  'tis  not  all  that  love  so  well  their  kings 
As  to  stand  by  them,  in  afflictions  loyal. 

(Several    smaller    sections    of    the   chorus   probably 
chanted  the  next  passages  in  succession.) 


146  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus  i 
O  Zeus,  for  our  lords  is  there  nought  but  despair? 
No  path  through  the  tangle  of  evils,  no  loosing  of  chains 
that  have  bound  them? 

Chorus  2 
No  tidings? — remaineth  but  rending  of  hair, 
And  the  stricken  ones  turned  to  the  tomb  with  the  gar- 
ments of  sorrow  around  them? 

Chorus  3 
Even  so — even  so!  yet  uplift  we  in  prayer 
Our  hands  to  the  Gods,  for  that  power  from  the  days 
everlasting  hath  crowned  them. 

Chorus  4 
O  Healer-king, 

Find  thou  for  Admetus  the  balm  of  relief,  for  the  captive 
deliverance ! 

(Enter  female  Attendants  bearing  Alcestis,  accompanied  by 
Admetus  and  Children.) 

Alcestis    (Sings.) 
O  Sun,  and  the  day's  dear  light, 

And  ye  clouds  through  the  wheeling  heaven  in  the  race 
everlasting  flying! 

Admetus 
He  seeth  thee  and  me,  two  stricken  ones. 
Which  wrought  the  Gods  no  wrong,  that  thou  shouldst  die. 

Alcestis    (Sings.) 
O  Land,  O  stately  height 

Of  mine  halls,  and  my  bridal  couch  in  lolkos  my  father- 
land lying! 

Admetus 
Uplift  thee,  hapless  love,  forsake  me  not. 
And  pray  the  mighty  Gods  in  ruth  to  turn. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  147 

Alcestis     (Sings.) 
I  see  the  Boat  with  the  oars  twin-sweeping, 
And,  his  hand  on  the  pole  as  in  haste  aye  keeping, 
Charon  the  Ferryman  calleth,  **What  ho,  wilt  thou  linger 

and  linger? 
Hasten, — 'tis  thou  dost  delay  me!"  he  crieth  with  beck- 
oning finger 

Admetus 
Ah  me !  a  bitter  ferrying  this  thou  namest  I 

0  evil-starred,  what  woes  endure  we  now! 

Alcestis    (Sings.) 
One  haleth  me — haleth  me  hence  to  the  mansion 
Of  the  dead! — dost  thou  mark  not  the  darkling  expansion 
Of  the  pinions  of  Hades,  the  blaze  of  his  eyes  'neath  their 

caverns  out-glaring? 
What  wouldst  thou? — Unhand  me! — In  anguish  and  pain 

by  what  path  am  I  faring! 

Admetus 
Woeful  to  them  that  love  thee:  most  to  me 
And  to  thy  babes,  sad  sharers  in  this  grief. 

Alcestis 
Admetus, — for  thou  seest  all  my  plight, — 
Fain  would  I  speak  mine  heart's  wish  ere  I  die. 
I,  honouring  thee,  and  setting  thee  in  place 
Before  mine  own  soul  still  to  see  this  light. 
Am  dying,  unconstrained  to  die  for  thee. 

1  might  have  wed  what  man  Thessalian 

I  would,  have  dwelt  wealth-crowned  in  princely  halls; 
Yet  would  not  live  on,  torn  away  from  thee. 
With  orphaned  children:  wherefore  spared  I  not 
The  gifts  of  youth  still  mine,  wherein  I  joyed. 
Yet  she  that  bare,  he  that  begat,  forsook  thee. 
Though  fair  for  death  their  time  of  life  was  come, 
Yea,  fair,  to  save  their  son  and  die  renowned. 
Let  be: — remember  thou  what  thank  is  due 


148  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

For  this:  I  never  can  ask  full  requital; — 

For  nought  there  is  more  precious  than  the  life ; — 

Yet  justly  due :  for  these  thy  babes  thou  lovest 

No  less  than  I,  if  that  thine  heart  be  right. 

Suffer  that  they  have  lordship  in  mine  home: 

Wed  not  a  stepdame  to  supplant  our  babes, 

Whose  jealous  hand  shall  smite  them,  thine  and  mine. 

Do  not,  ah,  do  not  this — I  pray  thee,  I. 

The  boy — his  father  is  his  tower  of  strength 

But,  O  my  child,  what  girlhood  will  be  thine? 

To  thee  what  would  she  be,  thy  father's  yoke-mate? 

What  if  with  ill  report  she  smirched  thy  name. 

And  in  thy  youth's  flower  marred  thy  marriage-hopes? 

For  thee  thy  mother  ne'er  shall  deck  for  bridal. 

Nor  hearten  thee  in  travail,  O  my  child, 

There,  where  nought  gentler  than  the  mother  is. 

For  I  must  die,  nor  shall  it  be  to  morn. 

Nor  on  the  third  day  comes  on  me  this  bane: 

Straightway  of  them  that  are  not  shall  I  be. 

Farewell,  be  happy.     Now  for  thee,  my  lord. 

Abides  the  boast  to  have  won  the  noblest  wife. 

For  you,  my  babes,  to  have  sprung  from  noblest  mother. 

Chorus 

Fear  not;  for  I  am  bold  to  speak  for  him 
This  will  he  do,  an  if  he  be  not  mad. 

Admetus 

It  shall,  it  shall  be,  dread  not  thou :  for  thee 
Living  I  had;  and  dead,  mine  only  wife 
Shalt  thou  be  called:  nor  ever  in  thy  stead 
Shall  bride  Thessalian  hail  me  as  her  lord. 
Children  enough  have  I :  I  pray  the  Gods 
For  joy  in  these — our  joy  in  thee  is  nought. 
Not  for  a  year's  space  will  I  mourn  for  thee. 
But  long  as  this  my  life  shall  last,  dear  wife, 
Revels  shall  cease,  and  gatherings  at  the  wine. 
Garlands,  and  song,  which  wont  to  fill  mine  house. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  149 

And,  wrought  by  craftsmen's  cunning  hands,  thy  form 

Imaged,  upon  a  couch  outstretched  shall  he. 

Falling  whereon,  and  clasping  with  mine  hands, 

CaUing  thy  name,  in  fancy  shall  mine  arms 

Hold  my  beloved,  though  I  hold  her  not: — 

A  chill  delight,  I  wot:  yet  shall  I  lift 

The  burden  from  my  soul.     In  dreams  shalt  thou 

Haunt  me  and  gladden:  sweet  to  see  the  loved, 

Though  but  a  fleeting  presence  night-revealed. 

But,  were  the  tongue  and  strain  of  Orpheus  mine, 

To  witch  Demeter's  Daughter  and  her  lord,^ 

And  out  of  Hades  by  my  song  to  win  thee, 

I  had  fared  down:  nor  Pluto's  Hound  had  stayed  me, 

Nor  Spirit-wafter  Charon  at  the  oar. 

Or  ever  I  restored  thy  life  to  light. 

Yet  there  look  thou  for  me,  whenso  I  die; 

Prepare  a  home,  as  who  shall  dwell  with  me. 

For  in  the  selfsame  cedar  chest,  wherein 

Thou  liest,  will  I  bid  them  lay  my  bones 

Outstretched  beside  thee:  ne'er  may  I  be  severed. 

No,  not  in  death,  from  thee,  my  one  true  friend. 

Alcestis 
On  these  terms  take  the  children  from  mine  hand. 

Admetus 
I  take  them — precious  gift  from  precious  hand. 

Alcestis 
Be  to  these  babes  a  mother  in  my  stead. 

Admetus 
Sore  is  their  need,  who  are  bereft  of  thee. 

Alcestis 
Dark — dark — mine  eyes  are  drooping,  heavy-laden. 

1  Persephone,  daughter  of  Demeter,  is  wedded  to  Pluto,  king  of  Hades, 
the  world  of  the  dead.  Orpheus  by  his  music  softened  Pluto's  heart  so  that 
the  singer  was  allowed  to  lead  back  to  the  light  his  dead  wife. 


150  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Admetus 
Uplift  thy  face :  forsake  not  thine  own  children ! 

Alcestis 
Sore  loth  do  I — ^yet  O  farewell,  my  babes! 

Admetus 
Look  unto  them — O  look! 

Alcestis 

I  am  no  more. 

Admetus 
Ah,  leav*st  thou  us? 

Alcestis 
Farewell.     (Dies,) 

Admetus 

O  wretch  undone ! 
Chorus 
Gone, — gone! — No  more  is  this  Admetus'  wife! 

Eumelus    (Sings.) 
Woe  for  my  lot  I — to  the  tomb  hath  my  mother  descended, 

descended ! 
Never  again,  O  my  father,  she  seeth  the  light  of  the  sun ! 
In  anguish  she  leaves  us  forsaken:  the  story  is  ended,  is 

ended. 
Of  her  sheltering  love,  and  the  tale  of  the  motherless  life 

is  begun. 
Look — look  on  her  eyelids,  her  hands   drooping   nerve- 
less!    O  hear  me,  O  hear  me! 
It  is  I — I  beseech  thee,  my  mother! — thine  own  little, 

own  little  bird  I 
It  is  I — O,  I  cast  me  upon  thee — thy  lips  are  so  near  me, 

so  near  me. 
Unto  mine  am  I  pressing  them,  mother! — I  plead  for  a 

word — but  a  word! 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  151 

Admetus 

With  her  who  heareth  not,  nor  seeth :  ye 
And  I  are  stricken  with  a  heavy  doom. 

EuMELUS    (Sings.) 

And  I  am  but  a  little  one,  father — so  young,  and  forsaken, 

forsaken, 
Forlorn  of  my  mother — O  hapless !  a  weariful  lot  shall  be 

mine! 
And  thou,  little  maiden,  my  sister,  the  burden  hast  taken, 

hast  taken. 
Which  thy  brother  may  bear  not  alone,  and  a  weariful  lot 

shall  be  thine. 

Chorus 

Admetus,  this  mischance  thou  needs  must  bear. 
Not  first  of  mortals  thou,  nor  shalt  be  last 
To  lose  a  noble  wife;  and,  be  thou  sure, 
From  us,  from  all,  this  debt  is  due — to  die. 

Admetus 

I  know  it :  nowise  unforeseen  this  ill 

Hath  swooped  upon  me :  long  I  grieved  to  know  it. 

But — for  to  burial  must  I  bear  my  dead — 

Stay  ye,  and,  tarrying,  echo  back  my  wail 

To  that  dark  God  whom  no  drink-offerings  move. 

And  all  Thessalians  over  whom  I  rule 

I  bid  take  part  in  mourning  for  this  woman, 

With  shaven  head  and  sable-shrouding  robe. 

And  ye  which  yoke  the  cars  four-horsed,  or  steeds 

Of  single  frontlet,  shear  with  steel  their  manes. 

Music  of  flutes  the  city  through,  or  lyres. 

Be  none,  while  twelve  moons  round  their  circles  out: 

For  dearer  dead,  nor  kinder  unto  me 

I  shall  not  bury:  worthy  of  mine  honour 

Is  she,  for  she  alone  hath  died  for  me.  {Exit.) 


152  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus 

0  Pelias'  daughter,  I  hail  thee: 

1  waft  thee  eternal  farewell 

To  thine  home  where  the  darkness  must  veil  thee, 
Where  in  Hades  unsunned  thou  shalt  dwell. 
Know,  Dark-haired,  thy  grey  Spirit-wafter 
Hath  sped  not  with  twy  ^-plashing  oar 
Woman  nobler,  nor  shall  speed  hereafter 
To  Acheron's  shore. 

Heracles    (Entering.) 
Strangers,  who  dwell  in  this  Pheraian  land. 
Say,  do  I  find  Admetus  in  his  home? 

Chorus 
Heracles,  in  his  home  is  Pheres*  son. 
Yet  say,  what  brings  thee  to  Thessalian  land. 
That  thou  shouldst  come  to  this  Pheraian  town? 

Heracles 
For  Thracian  Diomedes'  four-horsed  chariot. 

Chorus 
Not  save  by  battle  may  those  steeds  be  won. 

Heracles 
Not  this  the  first  time  I  have  run  such  course. 

Chorus 
What  profit  is  it  if  thou  slay  their  lord? 

Heracles 
Those  steeds  shall  I  drive  back  to  Tiryns'  king.' 

Chorus 
Yea,  but  with  ravening  jaws  do  they  rend  men. 

iTwo. 

2£urystheus,  whom  Heracles  is  bound  to  serve. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  153 

Heracles 
Go  to — thus  banquet  mountain-beasts,  not  horses. 

Chorus 
Nay,  thou  shalt  see  their  cribs  with  gore  bespattered. 

Heracles 
Whom  boasteth  he  for  father,  he  that  reared  them? 

Chorus 
Ares,*  the  king  of  Thracia*s  golden  shield. 

Heracles 
Thou  say*st:  such  toil  my  fate  imposeth  still. 
Harsh  evermore,  uphillward  straining  aye. 
But  never  man  shall  see  Alkmene's  child 
Quailing  before  the  hand  of  any  foe. 

Chorus 
Lo,  there  himself,  the  ruler  of  the  land, 
Admetus,  cometh  forth  his  palace-hall. 

{Enter  Admetus.) 

Admetus 
Hail,  O  thou  sprung  from  Zeus'  and  Perseus'  blood  I 

Heracles 
Admetus,  hail  thou  too,  Thessalia's  king. 

Admetus 
Hale? — Would  I  were!     Yet  thy  good  heart  I  know. 

Heracles 
Wherefore  for  mourning  shaven  show'st  thou  thus? 

Admetus 
This  day  must  I  commit  to  earth  a  corpse. 
1  Ares,  the  wargod,  is  the  especial  patron  of  savage  Thrace. 


154  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Heracles 
Now  heaven  forefend  thou  mourn 'st  for  children  dead! 

Admetus 
In  mine  home  live  the  babes  whom  I  begat. 

Heracles 
Sooth,  death-ripe  were  thy  sire,  if  he  be  gone. 

Admetus 
He  liveth,  and  my  mother,  Heracles. 

Heracles 
Surely,  O  surely,  not  thy  wife,  Admetus? 

Admetus 
Twofold  must  be  mine  answer  touching  her, 

Heracles 
Or  hath  she  died,  say'st  thou,  or  liveth  yet? 

Admetus 
She  is,  and  she  is  not:  here  lies  my  sorrow. 

Heracles 
Nothing  the  more  I  know:  dark  sayings  thine. 

Admetus 
Know'st  not  the  doom  whereon  she  needs  must  light? 

Heracles 
I  know  she  pledged  herself  to  die  for  thee. 

Admetus 
How  lives  she  then,  if  she  to  this  consented? 

Heracles 
Mourn  not  thy  wife  ere  dead;  abide  the  hour. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  155 

Admetus 
Dead  is  the  doomed,  and  no  more  is  the  dead. 

Heracles 
— But  now,  why  weep'st  thou?    What  dear  friend  is  dead? 

Admetus 
A  woman — hers  the  memory  we  mourn. 

Heracles 
Some  stranger  born,  or  nigh  of  kin  to  thee? 

Admetus 
A  stranger  bom;  yet  near  and  dear  to  us. 

Heracles 
Would  we  had  found  thee  mourning  not,  Admetus. 

Admetus 
Ay  so? — what  purpose  lurketh  'neath  thy  word? 

Heracles 
On  will  I  to  another  host's  hearth- welcome. 

Admetus 
It  cannot  be :  may  no  such  evil  come ! 

Heracles 
A  burden  unto  mourners  comes  the  guest. 

Admetus 
Aloof  the  guest-bowers  are  where  we  will  lodge  thee. 

Heracles 
Let  me  pass  on,  and  have  my  thanks  unmeasured. 

Admetus 
Unto  another's  hearth  thou  canst  not  go. 


156  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

{To  an  attendant.) 

Ho  thou,  lead  on :  open  the  guest-bowers  looking 
Away  from  these  our  chambers.     Tell  my  stewards 
To  set  on  meat  in  plenty.     Shut  withal 
The  mid-court  doors:  it  fits  not  that  the  guests, 
The  while  they  feast,  hear  wailings,  and  be  vexed. 

{Exit  Heracles.) 

Chorus 

What  dost  thou? — such  affliction  at  the  door, 
And  guests  for  thee,  Admetus?     Art  thou  mad? 

Admetus 

But  had  I  driven  him  from  my  home  and  city 
Who  came  my  guest,  then  hadst  thou  praised  me  more? 
Yea,  and  myself  have  proved  him  kindliest  host 
Whene'er  to  Argos'  thirsty  plain  I  fared. 

Chorus 

Why  hide  then  the  dread  Presence  in  the  house. 
When  came  a  friend? — Thyself  hast  named  him  friend. 

Admetus 

Never  had  he  been  won  to  pass  my  doors, 
Had  he  one  whit  of  mine  afflictions  known. 

Chorus    {Sings.) 

Halls  thronged  of  the  guests  ever  welcome,  O  dwelling 
Of  a  hero,  for  ever  the  home  of  the  free, 
The  Lord  of  the  lyre-strings  sweet  beyond  telling, 
Apollo,  hath  deigned  to  sojourn  in  thee. 
Amid  thine  habitations,  a  shepherd  of  sheep. 
The  flocks  of  Admetus  he  scorned  not  to  keep. 
While  the  shepherd's  bridal-strains,  soft-swelling 
From  his  pipe,  pealed  over  the  slant-sloped  lea. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  157 

Admetus 

0  kindly  presence  of  Pheraian  men, 

This  corpse  even  now,  with  all  things  meet,  my  servants 
Bear  on  their  shoulders  to  the  tomb  and  pyre. 
Wherefore,  as  custom  is,  hail  ye  the  dead. 
On  the  last  journey  as  she  goeth  forth. 

Chorus 

Lo,  I  behold  thy  sire  with  aged  foot 
Advancing,  and  attendants  in  their  hands 
Bear  ornaments  to  deck  the  dead  withal. 

{Enter  Pheres  with  Attendants  hearing  gifts.) 

Pheres 

1  come  in  thine  afflictions  sorrowing,  son: 
A  noble  wife  and  virtuous  hast  thou  lost, 
None  will  gainsay:  yet  these  calamities 

We  needs  must  bear,  how  hard  to  bear  soever. 

Receive  these  ornaments,  and  let  her  pass 

Beneath  the  earth:  well  may  the  corpse  be  honoured 

Of  her  who  for  thy  life's  sake  died,  my  son; 

O  saviour  of  my  son,  who  us  upraisedst 

In  act  to  fall,  all  hail!     May  Miss  be  thine 

Even  in  Hades.     Thus  to  wed,  I  say, 

Profiteth  men — or  nothing  worth  is  marriage 

Admetus 

Bidden  of  me  thou  com'st  not  to  this  burial. 
Nor  count  I  thine  the  presence  of  a  friend. 
Thine  ornaments  she  never  shall  put  on; 
True  father  of  my  body  thou  wast  not; 
Nor  she  that  said  she  bare  me,  and  was  called 
My  mother,  gave  me  birth:  of  bondman  blood 
To  thy  wife's  breast  was  I  brought  privily. 
So  old,  and  standing  on  the  verge  of  life. 
Yet  hadst  no  will,  yet  hadst  no  heart  to  die 
For  thine  own  son! — Ye  suffered  her,  a  woman 


158  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Not  of  our  house,  whom  I  with  righteous  cause 

Might  count  alone  my  mother  and  my  father. 

Yet  here  was  honour,  hadst  thou  dared  the  strife, 

In  dying  for  thy  son.     A  paltry  space 

To  cling  to  life  in  any  wise  was  left. 

Then  had  I  lived,  and  she,  through  days  to  come. 

Nor  I,  left  lorn,  should  thus  mine  ills  bemoan. 

Yet  all  that  may  the  fortunate  betide 

Fell  to  thy  lot;  in  manhood's  prime  a  king: 

Me  hadst  thou  son  and  heir  unto  thine  house 

So  that  thou  wast  not,  dying,  like  to  leave 

A  childless  home  for  stranger  folk  to  spoil. 

Not  I  with  this  mine  hand  will  bury  thee. 

For  thee  dead  am  I.     If  I  see  the  light, — 

Another  saviour  found, — I  call  me  son 

To  her,  and  loving  fosterer  of  her  age. 

For  nought  the  aged  pray  for  death's  release, 

Plaining  of  age  and  weary-wearing  time. 

Let  death  draw  near — who  then  would  die?     Not  one; 

No  more  is  eld  a  burden  unto  them. 

Chorus 
O  hush!     Suffice  the  affliction  at  the  doors. 
O  son,  infuriate  not  thy  father's  soul. 

Pheres 
This  insolence  passethi — hurling  malapert  words 
On  me,  not  lightly  thus  shalt  thou  come  off! 
Thee  I  begat  and  nurtured,  of  mine  house 
The  heir:  no  debt  is  mine  to  die  for  thee. 
Not  from  our  sires  such  custom  we  received 
That  sires  for  sons  should  die:  no  Greek  law  this. 
What  is  my  wrong,  my  robbery  of  thee? 
For  me  die  thou  not,  I  die  not  for  thee. 
Thou  joy'st  to  see  light — shall  thy  father  joy  not? 
Sooth,  I  account  our  time  beneath  the  earth 
Long,  and  our  Hfe-space  short,  yet  is  it  sweet. 
Shamelessly  hast  thou  fought  against  thy  death: 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  159 

Thy  life  is  but  transgression  of  thy  doom 
And  murder  of  thy  wife: — my  cowardice! 
Cunning  device  hast  thou  devised  to  die 
Never,  cajoHng  still  wife  after  wife 
To  die  for  thee! — and  dost  revile  thy  friends 
Who  will  not  so — and  thou  the  coward,  thou? 
Peace!  e'en  bethink  thee,  if  thou  lov'st  thy  Hfe, 
So  all  love  theirs.     Thou,  if  thou  speakest  evil 
Of  us,  shalt  hear  much  evil,  and  that  true. 

Chorus 
Ye  have  said  too  much,  thou  now,  and  he  before. 
Refrain,  old  sire,  from  railing  on  thy  son. 

Admetus 
Say  on,  say  on;  I  have  said:  if  hearing  truth 
Gall  thee,  thou  shouldest  not  have  done  me  wrong. 

Pheres 
One  life  to  live,  not  twain — this  is  our  due. 

Admetus 
Have  thy  desire — one  life  outlasting  Zeus. 

Pheres 
Dost  curse  thy  parents,  who  hast  had  no  wrong? 

Admetus 
Ay,  whom  I  marked  love-sick  for  dateless  life. 

Pheres 
What? — art  not  burying  her  in  thine  own  stead? 

Admetus 
This  taunt  strikes  thee — 'tis  thou  wast  loth  to  die. 

Pheres 
Sweet  is  yon  sun-god's  light,  yea,  it  is  sweet. 


i6o  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Admetus 
Yet  shalt  thou  die  in  ill  fame,  when  thou  diest 

Pheres 
Nought  reck  I  of  ill-speaking  o'er  my  grave 

Admetus 
Ah  me !  how  full  of  shamelessness  is  eld ! 

Pheres 
Not  shameless  she, — but  senseless  hast  thou  found  her 

Admetus 
Begone:  leave  me  to  bury  this  my  dead. 

Pheres 
I  go:  her  murderer  will  bury  her. 
Thou  shalt  yet  answer  for  it  to  her  kin. 
Surely  Akastus  is  no  more  a  man. 
If  he  of  thee  claim  not  his  sister's  blood. 

(Exit  Pheres.) 
Admetus 
Childless  grow  old,  as  ye  deserve,  while  lives 
Your  child:  ye  shall  not  come  beneath  one  roof 
With  me.     If  need  were  to  renounce  by  heralds 
Thy  fatherhood,  I  had  renounced  it  now. 
Let  us — for  we  must  bear  the  present  ill — 
Pass  on,  to  lay  our  dead  upon  the  pyre. 

Chorus 
Alas  for  the  loving  and  daring! 
Farewell  to  the  noblest  and  best! 
May  Hermes  conduct  thee  down-faring 
Kindly,  and  Hades  to  rest 
Receive  thee !     If  any  atonement 
For  ills  even  there  may  betide 
To  the  good,  O  thine  be  enthronement 
By  Hades'  bride! 

(Exeunt  omnes  in  funeral  procession.) 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  i6i 

{Enter  Servant.) 

Servant 
Full  many  a  guest,  from  many  a  land  which  came 
Unto  Admetus'  dwelling,  have  I  known. 
Have  set  before  them  meat :  but  never  guest 
More  pestilent  received  I  to  this  hearth: 
Who  first,  albeit  he  saw  my  master  mourning, 
Entered,  and  passed  the  threshold  unashamed; 
Then,  nowise  courteously  received  the  fare 
Found  with  us,  though  our  woeful  plight  he  knew. 
But,  what  we  brought  not,  hectoring  bade  us  bring. 
The  ivy  cup  uplifts  he  in  his  hands. 
Dissonant-howling.     Diverse  strains  were  heard: 
For  he  sang  on,  regardless  all  of  ills 
Darkening  Admetus'  house;  we  servants  wept 
Our  mistress:  yet  we  showed  not  to  the  guest 
Eyes  tear-bedewed,  for  so  Admetus  bade. 
She  from  the  house  hath  passed:  I  followed  not. 
Nor  stretched  the  hand,  nor  wailed  unto  my  mistress 
Farewell,  who  was  to  me  and  all  the  household 
A  mother,  for  from  ills  untold  she  saved  us, 
Assuaging  her  lord's  wrath.     Do  I  not  well 
To  loathe  this  guest,  intruder  on  our  griefs? 

{Enter  Heracles.) 

Heracles 
Ho,  fellow,  why  this  solemn  brooding  look? 
Thou,  seeing  here  in  presence  thy  lord's  friend. 
With  visage  sour  and  cloud  of  knitted  brows 
Receiv'st  him,  fretting  o'er  an  alien  grief. 
Hither  to  me,  that  wiser  thou  may'st  grow. 
The  lot  of  man — its  nature  knowest  thou? 
I  trow  not :  how  shouldst  thou?     Give  ear  to  me. 
From  all  mankind  the  debt  of  death  is  due, 
Nor  of  all  mortals  is  there  one  that  knows 
If  through  the  coming  morrow  he  shall  live: 
This  hearing  then,  and  learning  it  from  me, 


1 6a  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Make  merry,  drink;  the  life  from  day  to  day 
Account  thine  own,  all  else  in  fortune's  power. 
Pass  through  yon  doors  and  quaff  the  wine  with  me, 
Thy  brows  with  garlands  bound. 
What,  man! — the  mortal  must  be  mortal-minded. 
So,  for  your  solemn  wights  of  knitted  brows, 
For  each  and  all, — if  thou  for  judge  wilt  take  me, — 
Life  is  not  truly  life,  but  mere  affliction. 

Servant 
All  this  we  know:  but  now  are  we  in  plight 
Not  meet  for  laughter  and  for  revelry. 

Heracles 
The  woman  dead  is  alien-born:  grieve  not 
Exceeding  much.     Yet  live  the  household's  lords. 

Servant 
Live,  quotha! — know'st  thou  not  the  house's  ills? 

Heracles 
Yea,  if  thy  master  lied  not  unto  me. 

Servant 
Go  thou  in  peace:  our  lord's  ills  are  for  us. 

Heracles 
Grief  for  a  stranger  such  talk  heralds  not. 

Servant 
Else  had  I  not  sore  vexed  beheld  thy  revelling. 

Heracles 
How!  have  I  sorry  handling  of  mine  hosts? 

Servant 
Thou  cam' St  in  hour  unmeet  for  welcoming. 
For  grief  is  on  us;  and  thou  see'st  shorn  hair 
And  vesture  of  black  robes. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  163 

Heracles 

But  who  hath  died? 
Not  of  the  children  one,  or  grey-haired  sire? 

Servant 
Nay,  but  Admetus'  wife  is  dead,  O  guest. 

Heracles 
How  say*st  thou? — Ha,  even  then  ye  gave  me  welcome? 

Servant 
For  shame  he  could  not  thrust  thee  from  these  doors. 

Heracles 
I  felt  it,  when  I  saw  his  tear-drowned  eyes. 
His  shaven  hair,  and  face:  yet  he  prevailed. 
Saying  he  bare  a  stranger- friend  to  burial. 
I  passed  this  threshold  in  mine  heart's  despite. 
And  drank  in  halls  of  him  that  loves  the  guest. 
When  thus  his  plight! — And  am  I  revelling 
With  head  wreath- decked? — That   thou  should'st   ne'er 

have  told. 
When  such  affliction  lay  upon  the  home ! 
Where  doth  he  bury  her?     Where  shall  I  find  her? 

Servant 
By  the  straight  path  that  leads  Larissa-wards 
Shalt  see  the  hewn-stone  tomb  without  the  walls. 

Heracles 

0  much-enduring  heart  and  soul  of  mine. 
Now  show  what  son  the  Lady  of  Tiryns  bare, 
Elektryon's  child  Alkmene,  unto  Zeus. 

For  I  must  save  the  woman  newly  dead. 

And  set  in  this  house  again. 

And  render  to  Admetus  good  for  good. 

1  go.     The  sable-vestured  King  of  Corpses, 
Death,  will  I  watch  for,  and  shall  find,  I  trow. 
Drinking  the  death-draught  hard  beside  the  tomb. 


164  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

And  if  I  lie  in  wait,  and  dart  from  ambush, 

And  seize,  and  with  mine  arms'  coil  compass  him, 

None  is  there  shall  deliver  from  mine  hands 

His  straining  sides,  or  e'er  he  yield  his  prey. 

Yea,  though  I  miss  the  quarry,  and  he  come  not 

Unto  the  blood-clot,  to  the  sunless  homes 

Down  will  I  fare  of  Kore  and  her  king,* 

And  make  demand.     I  doubt  not  I  shall  lead 

Alcestis  up,  and  give  to  mine  host's  hands. 

Who  to  his  halls  received,  nor  drave  me  thence. 

Albeit  smitten  with  affliction  sore, 

Who  is  more  guest-fain^  of  Thessalians? 

Who  in  all  Hellas? — O,  he  shall  not  say 

That  one  so  princely  showed  a  base  man  kindness. 

(Exit.) 

Admetus 
O,  how  can  I  tread 
Thy  threshold,  fair  home? 
How  shelter  mine  head 
'Neath  thy  roof,  now  the  doom 
Of  the  God's  dice  changeth? — ah  me,  what  change  upon 
all  things  is  come ! 

For  with  torches  aflame 
Of  the  Pelian  pine. 
And  with  bird-song  I  came 
In  that  hour  divine, 
Upbearing  the  hand  of  a  wife — thine  hand,  O  darling  mine  I 

Followed  revellers,  raising 
Acclaim :  ever  broke 
From  the  lips  of  them  praising. 
Of  the  dead  as  they  spoke. 
And  of  me,  how  the  noble,  the  children  of  kings.  Love 
joined  'neath  his  yoke. 

1  Kore,  the  Maiden,  is  a  title  of  Persephone,  queen  of  Hades,  and  wife  of 
Pluto. 

2  Hospitable. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  165 

But  for  bridal  song 
Is  the  wail  for  the  dead, 
And,  for  white-robed  throng, 
Black  vesture  hath  led 
Me  to  halls  where  the  ghost  of  delight  lieth  couched  on  a 
desolate  bed. 

Chorus 

To  the  trance  of  thy  bliss 
Sudden  anguish  was  brought. 
Never  lesson  like  this 
To  thine  heart  had  been  taught : 
Yet  thy  life  hast  thou  won,  and  thy  soul  hast  delivered 
from  death; — is  it  bought? 

Admetus 

Friends,  I  account  the  fortune  of  my  wife 
Happier  than  mine,  albeit  it  seems  not  so. 
For  nought  of  grief  shall  touch  her  any  more. 
And  glorious  rest  she  finds  from  many  toils.  * 
But  I,  unmeet  to  live,  my  doom  outrun, 
Shall  drag  out  bitter  days:  I  know  it  now. 
The  solitude  within  shall  drive  me  forth. 
When  so  I  see  my  wife's  couch  tenantless. 
And  seats  whereon  she  sat,  beneath  the  roof. 
All  foul  the  floor;  when  on  my  knees  my  babes 
Falling  shall  weep  their  mother,  servants  moan 
The  peerless  mistress  from  the  mansion  lost. 
All  this  within;  but  from  the  world  without 
Shall  bridals  of  Thessalians  chase  me ;  throngs 
Where  women  gossip;  for  I  shall  not  bear 
On  those  companions  of  my  wife  to  look. 
And,  if  a  foe  I  have,  thus  shall  he  scoff; 
**Lo  there  who  basely  liveth — dared  not  die, 
But  whom  he  wedded  gave,  a  coward's  ransom. 
And  'scaped  from  Hades.     Count  ye  him  a  man? 
He  hates  his  parents,  though  himself  was  loth 
To  diel"     Such  ill  report,  besides  my  griefs, 


1 66  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Shall  mine  be.     Ah,  what  profit  is  to  live, 

0  friends,  in  evil  fame,  in  evil  plight? 

Chorus    (Sings.) 

Not  as  mounds  of  the  dead  which  have  died,  so  account 

we  the  tomb  of  thy  bride. 
But  O,  let  the  worship  and  honour  that  we  render  to 
Gods  rest  upon  her: 

Unto  her  let  the  wayfarer  pray. 

As  he  treadeth  the  pathway  that  trendeth 

Aside  from  the  highway,  and  bendeth 

At  her  shrine,  he  shall  say: 

**Her  life  for  her  lord's  was  given; 

With  the  Blest  now  abides  she  on  high. 

Hail,  Queen,  show  us  grace  from  thine  heaven ! ' ' 

Even  so  shall  they  cry. 
But  lo,  Alkmene's  son,  as  seemeth,  yonder, 
Admetus,  to  thine  hearth  is  journeying. 

{Enter  Heracles,  leading  a  woman  wholly  veiled.) 

Heracles 

Unto  a  friend  behooveth  speech  outspoken. 
Thou  gavest  me  guest-welcome  in  thine  home, 
Making  pretence  of  mourning  for  a  stranger. 

1  wreathed  mine  head,  I  spilled  unto  the  Gods 
Drink-offerings  in  a  stricken  house,  even  thine. 

I  blame  thee,  thus  mishandled,  yea,  I  blame  thee. 
Yet  nowise  is  my  will  to  gall  thy  grief. 
But  wherefore  hither  turning  back  I  come, 
This  will  I  tell.     Take,  guard  for  me  this  maid. 
Prize  of  hard  toil  unto  mine  hands  she  came: 
For  certain  men  I  found  but  now  arraying 
An  athlete-strife,  toil-worthy,  for  all  comers. 
Whence  I  have  won  and  bring  this  victor's  meed. 
But,  as  I  said,  this  woman  be  thy  care: 
For  no  thief's  prize,  but  toil-achieved,  I  bring  her. 
Yea,  one  day  thou  perchance  shalt  say  'twas  well. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  167 

Admetus 

Not  flouting  thee,  nor  counting  among  foes, 

My  wife's  unhappy  fate  I  hid  from  thee. 

But  this  had  been  but  grief  uppiled  on  grief, 

Hadst  thou  sped  hence  to  be  another's  guest; 

And  mine  own  ills  sufficed  me  to  bewail. 

But,  for  the  woman — if  in  any  wise 

It  may  be,  prince,  bid  some  ThessaHan  guard  her, 

I  pray  thee,  who  hath  suffered  not  as  I. 

In  Pherae  many  a  friend  and  host  thou  hast. 

Awaken  not  remembrance  of  my  grief. 

I  could  not,  seeing  her  mine  halls  within. 

Be  tearless:  add  not  hurt  unto  mine  hurt. 

Burdened  enough  am  I  by  mine  affliction. 

Nay,  in  mine  house  where  should  a  young  maid  lodge.? — 

Needs  must  I  take  great  heed. 

But,  woman,  thou, 

Whoso  thou  art,  know  that  thy  body's  stature 

Is  as  Alcestis,  and  thy  form  as  hers. 

Ah  me! — lead,  for  the  gods'  sake,  from  my  sight 

This  woman! — Take  not  my  captivity  captive. 

For,  as  I  look  on  her,  methinks  I  see 

My  wife :  she  stirs  mine  heart  with  turmoil :  fountains 

Of  tears  burst  from  mine  eyes.     O  wretched  I! 

Now  first  I  taste  this  grief's  full  bitterness. 

Heracles 
O'ershoot  not  now  the  mark,  but  bear  all  bravely. 

Ajdmetus 
Easier  to  exhort  than  suffer  and  be  strong. 

Heracles 
Time  shall  bring  healing:  now  is  thy  griei  young. 

Admetus 
Time — time? — O  yea,  if  this  thy  Time  be  Death! 


1 68  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Heracles 
I  praise  thee  for  that  leal  thou  art  to  her. 

Admetus 
Death  be  my  meed,  if  I  betray  her  dead. 

Heracles 
Receive  this  woman  now  these  halls  within. 

Admetus 

0  that  in  strife  thou  ne'er  hadst  won  this  maid! 

Heracles 
Yet  thy  friend's  victory  is  surely  thine. 

Admetus 
Well  said:  yet  let  the  woman  hence  depart. 

Heracles 
Yea — if  need  be.     First  look  well — need  it  be? 

Admetus 
Needs  must — save  thou  wilt  else  be  wroth  with  me. 

Heracles 

1  too  know  what  I  do,  insisting  thus. 

Admetus 
Have  then  thy  will:  thy  pleasure  is  my  pain. 

Heracles 
Yet  one  day  shalt  thou  praise  me :  only  yield. 

Admetus 
{To  Attendants.) 
Lead  ye  her,  if  mine  halls  must  needs  receive. 

Heracles 
Not  to  thy  servants*  hands  will  I  commit  her. 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  169 

Admetus 
Thou  lead  her  in  then,  if  it  seems  thee  good. 

Heracles 
Nay,  but  in  thine  hands  will  I  place  her — thine. 

Admetus 
I  will  not  touch  her! — Open  stand  my  doors, 

Heracles 
Unto  thy  right  hand  only  trust  I  her. 

Admetus 

0  king,  thou  forcest  me:  I  will  not  this! 

Heracles 
Be  strong:  stretch  forth  thine  hand  and  touch  thy  guest. 

Admetus 

1  stretch  it  forth,  as  to  a  headless  Gorgon. 

Heracles 
Hast  her? 

Admetus 
I  have. 

Heracles 
Yea,  guard  her.  Thou  shalt  call 
The  child  of  Zeus  one  day  a  noble  guest. 

{Raises  the  veil,  and  discloses  Alcestis.) 
Look  on  her,  if  in  aught  she  seems  to  thee 
Like  to  thy  wife.     Step  forth  from  grief  to  Miss. 

Admetus 
What  shall  I  say? — Gods! — Marvel  this  unhoped  for! 
My  wife  do  I  behold  in  very  sooth, 
Or  doth  some  god-sent  mockery-joy  distract  me? 


lyo  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Heracles 
Not  so;  but  this  thou  seest  is  thy  wife. 

Admetus 
What  if  this  be  some  phantom  from  the  shades? 

Heracles 
No  ghost-upraiser  hast  thou  ta'en  for  guest. 

Admetus 
How? — whom  I  buried  do  I  see — my  wife? 

Heracles 
Doubt  not:  yet  might 'st  thou  well  mistrust  thy  fortune. 

Admetus 
O  face,  O  form  of  my  beloved  wife, 
Past  hope  I  have  thee,  who  ne'er  thought  to  see  thee! 

Heracles 
Thou  hast:  may  no  god  of  thy  bhss  be  jealous. 

Admetus 

0  scion  nobly-born  of  Zeus  most  high, 
Blessings  on  thee!     The  Father  who  begat  thee 
Keep  thee!     Thou  only  hast  restored  my  fortunes. 
How  didst  thou  bring  her  from  the  shades  to  light? 

Heracles 

1  closed  in  conflict  with  the  Lord  of  Spirits. 

Admetus 
Where,  say'st  thou,  didst  thou  fight  this  fight  with  Death? 

Heracles 
From  ambush  by  the  tomb  mine  hands  ensnared  him. 

Admetus 
Now  wherefore  speechless  standeth  thus  my  wife? 


Euripides  and  the  Alcestis  171 

Heracles 
'Tis  not  vouchsafed  thee  yet  to  hear  her  voice, 
Ere  to  the  Powers  beneath  the  earth  she  be 
Unconsecrated,  and  the  third  day  come. 
But  lead  her  in,  and,  just  man  as  thou  art, 
Henceforth,  Admetus,  reverence  still  the  guest. 
Farewell.     But  I  must  go,  and  work  the  work 
Set  by  the  king,  the  son  of  Sthenelus.* 

Admetus 
O  prosper  thou,  and  come  again  in  peace! 
For  now  to  happier  days  than  those  o'erpast 
Have  we  attained.     I  own  me  blest  indeed. 

Chorus 
O  the  works  of  the  Gods — in  manifold  forms  they  reveal 

them: 
Manifold  things  unhoped-for  the  Gods  to  accompHshment 

bring. 
And  the  things  that  we  looked  for,  the  Gods  deign  not  to 

fulfill  them; 
And  the  paths  undiscenied  of  our  eyes,  the  Gods  unseal 
them. 

So  fell  this  marvellous  thing. 

{Exeunt  omnes.) 

There  are  many  questions  that  Admetus  might  still 
have  raised;  for  example,  did  Heracles  wrest  from  death 
the  soul  or  the  body  of  Alcestis?  How  was  the  soul  able 
to  reenter  the  body?  How  were  the  Fates  to  be  appeased 
for  this  second  loss,  which  Death  himself  had  so  angrily 
prophesied  in  the  opening  scene? 

Much  in  the  Httle  drama  is  unsatisfying.  Despite 
Professor  Moulton's  confident  and  able  defense  of 
Admetus,  he  remains  to  most  readers,  even  as  to  him- 

1  Eurystheus,  the  king  whom  the  hero  Heracles  must  serve. 


ITY 


lyji  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

self,  ignoble,  selfish,  unmanly.  But  Alcestis,  at  least, 
has  always  claimed  the  love  and  admiration  of  mankind. 
In  one  of  his  tenderest  sonnets  Milton  has  a  vision  of  his 
dead  wife: 

**Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis  from  the  grave.** 

Even  Shakspere,  in  the  **Winter's  Tale,"  has  imi- 
tated freely  the  return  of  the  dead  queen  to  life.  Indeed 
Euripides,  in  many  of  his  plays,  seems  nearer  to  modern 
romantic  drama  than  to  the  austerer  Attic  classicism  in 
which  he  was  bred.  We  are  glad  to  remember  that  both 
the  Brownings  hailed  as  a  near  and  kindred  spirit 

"Euripides  the  human.** 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Portions  of  the  "Alcestis"  are  here  taken  from  a  brilliant 
translation  of  all  Euripides*  plays,  in  three  volumes,  by  Way,  the 
choral  portions  being  rendered  freely  in  rhymed  measures  much 
influenced  by  Swinburne.  The  prose  version  in  the  Bohn  Library, 
by  Coleridge,  is  prosaic  indeed,  but  careful  and  scholarly.  The 
most  famous  rendering  of  the  "Alcestis"  is  by  Mr.  Browning. 
Together  with  much  interpolated  matter,  comment,  and  argument, 
it  is  imbedded  in  his  long  poem  "Balaustion's  Adventure."  Far 
more  important,  and  difficult,  is  Mr.  Browning's  discussion  of 
Euripides*  and  Aristophanes'  merits  in  his  "Aristophanes'  Apol- 
ogy," which  includes  a  very  able  and  faithful  poetical  rendering 
of  the  Euripidean  "Hercules  Mad."  The  present  author's  first* 
book,  "Three  Dramas  of  Euripides,"  covered  the  "Alcestis,** 
"Medea,"  and  "Hippolytus."  The  attempt  was  to  give,  in  un- 
rhymed  English  verse,  an  idea  of  the  Greek  rhythm,  and  to  com- 
bine with  the  translation  such  discussion  as  an  intelligent  stranger 
might  desire  when  first  invited  into  the  Athenian  theatre. 


CHAPTER   IX 

ARISTOPHANES'  CLOUDS 
Ridicule  as  a  Moral  Weapon. 

Comedy  developed  later  than  tragedy,  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fifth  century  B.C.,  as  another  offshoot  from  the 
same  Dionysiac  cult.  Quite  unlike  the  mythic  themes 
and  artistic  remoteness  of  the  ^schylean  drama,  comedy 
was  up-to-date,  homely,  grotesque.  Though  the  parts 
were  taken  by  male  actors  only,  we  hear  of  Athenian 
ladies,  even  children,  among  the  auditors  of  tragedy:  but 
never  as  present  at  an  Attic  comedy.  All  the  decencies 
were — not  so  much  violated  as  rather — forgotten  in  the 
rollicking  festival  season  of  the  merry  wine-god.  Despite 
frequent  prohibitory  decrees,  the  foremost  citizens  of  that 
turbulent  democracy  were  unmistakably  caricatured  in  the 
masks,  named  in  the  text,  put  to  utter  ridicule.  States- 
men all  but  resistless,  Hke  Pericles  or  Cleon,  well-beloved 
tragic  poets  like  Euripides  and  Agathon,  even  the  reserved 
Athenian  ladies,  or  the  orthodox  Olympian  gods,  were  here 
alike  fair  game.  Provided  the  world  be  duly  turned  topsy- 
turvy, and  a  royal  banquet  of  mirth  furnished,  all  was 
permissible.  We  have  but  one  of  the  comic  poets, 
Aristophanes,  surviving  in  a  dozen  plays,  but  he  has  no 
rival  save  the  creator  of  Falstaff,  of  Caliban,  of  Malvolio: 
if  even  he. 

Aristophanes'  dramas  cannot  be  fully  and  faithfully 
rendered  to  any  modern  audience.     He  is  absolutely  with- 

173 


174  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

out  reticence  or  sense  of  decency.  Yet  he  often  poses, 
with  unmistakable  earnestness,  as  a  moralist.  That  he 
considered  Euripides  a  harmful  innovator,  ^schylus  the 
nobler  and  better  dramatist,  cannot  be  questioned.  So, 
too,  the  famous  attack  on  Socrates  seems  to  have  under- 
lying it  something  of  ethical  purpose. 

Through  most  of  the  fifth  century,  and,  on  lesser  scale, 
again  in  the  fourth,  Athens  was  the  poHtical  centre  of  an 
extended  Grecian  league  or  empire.  Her  citizens  were 
constantly  engaged  as  jurors  to  try  cases  for  Athenians 
or  aliens.  Almost  any  citizen  must  some  day  appear, 
in  his  own  proper  person,  as  plaintiff  or  defendant. 
Hence  rhetoric  and  oratory  became  a  large  part  of  ele- 
mentary education,  and  essential  for  any  mercantile  or 
political  career.  An  extremely  briUiant  and  famous  group 
of  ''sophists'*  appeared  from  various  Greek  lands  to 
teach,  for  money,  the  art  of  getting  on  in  the  world:  of 
reaching,  and  holding  safely,  wealth  and  official  position. 
Just  at  this  time  arose  also  Socrates,  to  teach,  or  rather 
to  seek  out  and  discuss,  without  pay,  the  true  nature  and 
moral  duties  of  men.  Aristophanes  could  not  have  been 
ignorant  of  the  great  gulf  between  the  two  types  of 
teacher.  Yet  he  seized  the  familiar  name  and  picturesque 
mask  of  the  apostle  of  righteousness,  and  made  him  the 
center  of  a  most  laughable  parody  on  the  school  of  ora- 
tory and  business  college. 

No  less  sharply  opposed  was  Socrates,  the  preacher  of 
practical  morality,  to  the  vague  and  baseless  conjectures 
as  to  the  remoter  mysteries  of  matter,  spirit,  and  creation, 
that  in  his  day  masqueraded  as  science,  or  natural  phi- 
losophy. Yet  of  this  school  also  he  is  made  the  chief  1 
Such  is  the  famous  comedy,  *'The  Clouds." 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  175 

The  play  had,  and  still  has,  a  wonderful  vogue.  In 
the  ''Apology"  it  is  put  prominently  among  the  causes 
for  the  indictment  and  condemnation  of  Hellas'  greatest 
saint  and  sage.     As  such  it  surely  demands  a  place  here. 

We  can  give  only  an  outline,  citing  a  few  passages  or 
scenes  entire.  Old  Strepsiades,  a  thrifty  Athenian  citizen, 
appears  first,  lying  awake  in  his  room. 

CLOUDS 

Strepsiades    (Stretching  and  yawning.) 
Ah  me!     Ah  me!  will  this  night  never  end? 

0  kingly  Jove,  shall  there  be  no  more  day? 
And  yet  the  cock  sung  out  long  time  ago; 

1  heard  him — but  my  people  lie  and  snore, 
Snore  in  defiance,  for  the  rascals  know 

It  is  their  privilege  in  times  of  war. 

Which  with  its  other  plagues  brings  this  upon  us. 

That  we  mayn't  rouse  these  vermin  with  a  cudgel. 

There's  my  young  hopeful  too,  he  sleeps  it  through, 

Snug  under  five  fat  blankets  at  the  least. 

Would  I  could  sleep  so  sound!     But  my  poor  eyes 

Have  no  sleep  in  them;  what  with  debts  and  duns 

And  stable-keepers'  bills,  which  this  fine  spark 

Heaps  on  my  back,  I  He  awake  the  whilst: 

And  what  cares  he  but  to  coil  up  his  locks. 

Ride,  drive  his  horses,  dream  of  them  all  night. 

Whilst  I,  poor  devil,  may  go  hang — for  now 

The  moon  in  her  last  quarter  wanes  apace, 

And  my  usurious  creditors  are  gaping. 

What  ho !  a  light !  bring  me  my  tablets,  boy. 

That  I  may  set  down  all,  and  sum  them  up. 

Debts,  creditors,  and  interest  upon  interest. — 

The  youth,  Pheidippides,  presently  awakes. 

Pheidippides 
My  father!     Why  so  restless?     Who  has  vex'd  you? 


176  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades 
The  sheriff  vexes  me;  he  breaks  my  rest. 

Pheidippides 
Peace,,  self-tormentor,  let  me  sleep ! 

Strepsiades 

Sleep  on! 
But  take  this  with  you:  all  these  debts  of  mine 
Will  double  on  your  head;  a  plague  confound 
That  cursed  match-maker  who  drew  me  in 
To  wed,  forsooth,  that  precious  dam  of  thine. 
I  liv'd  at  ease  in  the  country,  coarsely  clad. 
Rough,  free,  and  full  withal  as  oil  and  honey 
And  store  of  stock  could  fill  me,  till  I  took. 
Clown  as  I  was,  this  Hmb  of  the  Alcmaeons,* 
This  vain,  extravagant,  high-blooded  dame: 
Rare  bed- fellows  and  dainty — Were  we  not? 
I,  smelling  of  the  wine-vat,  figs,  and  fleeces. 
The  produce  of  my  farm,  all  essence  she, 
Saffron  and  dainty  kisses,  paint  and  washes, 
A  pampered  wanton — idle  I'll  not  call  her; 
She  took  due  pains  in  faith  to  work  my  ruin. 
Which  made  me  tell  her,  pointing  to  this  cloak, 
Now  threadbare  on  my  shoulders — *'See,  good  wife, 
This  is  your  work,  in  troth  you  toil  too  hard ! ' ' 

(The  old  man  makes  a  bold  resolution.) 

Strepsiades 

Get  up!     Come  hither  boy!  look  out! 
Yon  little  wicket,  and  the  hut  hard  by — 
Dost  see  them? 

Pheidippides 
Clearly.     What  of  that  same  hut? 

1  a  very  aristocratic  family,  from  which  Pericles  sprang. 


Aristophanes'  Clouds  177 

Strepsiades 
Why  that's  the  council  chamber  of  all  wisdom: 
There  the  choice  spirits  dwell  who  teach  the  world 
That  Heaven's  great  concave  is  a  mighty  oven, 
And  men  its  burning  embers;  these  are  they, 
Who  can  show  pleaders  how  to  twist  a  cause, 
So  you'll  but  pay  them  for  it,  right  or  wrong. 

Pheidippides 
And  how  do  you  call  them? 

Strepsiades 
Troth,  I  know  not  that. 
But  they  are  men  who  take  a  world  of  pains : 
Wondrous  good  men  and  able. 

Pheidippides 
Out  upon  'em! 

Poor  rogues,  I  know  them  now;  you  mean  those  scabs, 
Those  squalid,  barefoot,  beggarly  impostors, 
The  sect  of  Socrates  and  Chaerephon. 

Strepsiades 
Hush!  Hush!  be  still;  don't  vent  such  foohsh  prattle; 
But  if  you'll  take  my  counsel,  join  their  college 
And  quit  your  riding-school. 

Pheidippides 
What  shall  I  learn? 

Strepsiades 
They  have  a  choice  of  logic;  this  for  justice. 
That  for  injustice;  learn  that  latter  art, 
And  all  these  creditors  that  now  beset  me. 
Shall  never  touch  a  drachma  that  I  owe  them. 

Pheidippides 
I'll  learn  of  no  such  masters,  nor  be  made 
A  scarecrow  and  a  may-game  for  my  comrades: 
I  have  no  zeal  for  starving. 


lyS  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades 

No,  nor  I 
For  feasting  you  and  your  fine  pampered  cattle 
At  free  cost  any  longer — Horse  and  foot 
To  the  crows  I  bequeath  you.     So  be  gone! 

Pheidippides 

Well,  sir,  I  have  an  uncle  rich  and  noble; 

Megacles  will  not  let  me  be  unhorsed; 

To  him  I  go;  I'll  trouble  you  no  longer.  (Exit.) 

Strepsiades     (Alone.) 

He  has  thrown  me  to  the  ground,  but  I'll  not  He  there; 

I'll  up,  and  with  the  permission  of  the  gods. 

Try  if  I  cannot  learn  these  arts  myself: 

But  being  old,  sluggish,  and  dull  of  wit. 

How  am  I  sure  these  subtleties  won't  pose  me? 

Well,  I'll  attempt  it;  what  avails  complaint? 

Why  don't  I  knock  and  enter? 

(The  scene  changes^  showing  the  inside  of  the  "Thinking- 
shop.'') 

Disciple    (Half  opening  the  door.) 

Go,  hang  yourself,  and  give  the  crows  a  dinner — 
What  noisy  fellow  art  thou  at  the  door? 

Strepsiades 
Strepsiades  of  Cicynna,  son  of  Pheidon. 

Disciple 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  'fore  heaven  thou  art  a  fool 
Not  to  respect  these  doors;  battering  so  loud. 
And  kicking  with  such  vengeance,  you  have  marred 
The  ripe  conception  of  my  pregnant  brain, 
And  brought  on  a  miscarriage. 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  179 

Strepsiades 

Oh!  the  pity! 
Pardon  my  ignorance,  I  am  country  bred 
And  far  afield  am  come;  I  pray  you  tell  me 
What  curious  thought  my  luckless  din  has  strangled, 
Just  as  your  brain  was  hatching. 

Disciple 

These  are  things 
We  never  speak  of  but  amongst  ourselves. 

Strepsiades 

Speak  boldly  then  to  me,  for   I  am  come 
To  be  amongst  you,  and  partake  the  secrets 
Of  your  profound  academy. 

Disciple 

Enough! 
I  will  impart,  but  set  it  down  in  thought 
Amongst  our  mysteries — This  is  the  question. 
As  it  was  put  but  now  to  Chaerephon, 
By  our  great  master,  Socrates,  to  answer. 
How  many  of  his  own  lengths  at  one  spring 
A  flea  can  leap — for  we  did  see  one  vault 
From  Chaerephon 's  black  eyebrow  to  the  head 
Of  the  philosopher. 

Strepsiades 

And  how  did  t'other 
Contrive  to  measure  this? 

Disciple 

Most  accurately: 
He  dipt  the  insect's  feet  in  melted  wax. 
Which,  hardening  into  sandals  as  it  cooled, 
Gave  him  the  space  by  rule  infallible. 


i8o  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades 
Imperial  Jove!  what  subtlety  of  thought! 

Why  talk  we  then  of  Thales?^  Open  to  me, 
Open  the  school  and  let  me  see  your  master: 
I  am  on  fire  to  enter — Come,  unbar! 

{The  door  oj  the  school  is  unbarred.  The  Socratic  scholars 
are  seen  in  various  grotesque  situations  and  positions. 
Strepsiades,  with  signs  of  astonishment  draws  back 
a  step  or  two,  then  exclaims) 

Oh  Hercules,  defend  me,  who  are  these? 
What  kind  of  cattle  have  we  here  in  view? 

Disciple 

Where  is  the  wonder?     What  do  they  resemble? 
Methinks  they're  like  our  Spartan  prisoners. 
Captured  at  Pylos.     What  are  they  in  search  of? 
Why  are  their  eyes  so  riveted  to  the  earth? 

Disciple 
There  their  researches  centre. 

Strepsiades 

Tis  for  onions 
They  are  in  quest — Come,  lads,  give  o*er  your  search; 
I'll  show  you  what  you  want,  a  noble  plat. 
All   round  and   sound — But,   soft!    what   mean  those 

gentry. 
Who  dip  their  heads  so  low? 

Disciple 

Marry,  because. 
Their  studies  lead  that  way:  they  are  now  diving 
To  the  dark  realms  of  Tartarus  and  Night. 

1  a  famous  earlier  philosopher. 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  i8i 

Strepsiades 
But  why  are  all  their  cruppers  mounted  up? 

Disciple 
To  practise  them  in  star-gazing,  and  teach  them 
The  proper  elevations ;  but  no  more  : 
In,  fellow-students,  in:  if  chance  the  master  come 
And  find  us  here — 

(Addressing   himself   to  some   of    his    jellow-students, 
who  were  crowding  about  the  new-comer.) 

Strepsiades 
Nay,  prythee,  let  them  stay, 
And  be  of  counsel  with  me  in  my  business. 

Disciple 
Impossible;  they  cannot  give  the  time. 

Strepsiades 
Now  for  the  love  of  Heav'n  what  have  we  here? 
Explain  their  uses  to  me. 

Disciple 
This  machine  {observing  the  apparatus.) 
Is  for  astronomy 

Strepsiades 

And  this? 

Disciple 

For  geometry. 

Strepsiades 
As  how? 

Disciple 
For  measuring  the  earth. 


1 82  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades 

Indeed! 
What,  by  the  lot? 

Disciple 
Nay,  faith,  sir,  by  the  lump; 
Ev*n  the  whole  globe  at  once. 
Look  now,  this  Hne  marks  the  circumference 
Of  the  whole  earth,  d'ye  see — This  spot  is  Athens — 

Strepsiades 
Athens!  go  to,  I  see  no  courts  are  sitting; 
Therefore  I  can't  believe  you. 

Disciple 

Nay,  in  truth, 
This  very  tract  is  Attica. 

Strepsiades 

Where's  Lacedaemon? 

Disciple 
Here,  close  to  Athens. 

Strepsiades 

Ah!  how  much  too  close — 
Prythee,  good  friends,  take  that  bad  neighbor  from  us. 

Disciple 
That's  not  for  us  to  do. 

Strepsiades 

The  worse  luck  yours! 
But  look!    {casting  up  his  eyes.) 

Who's  this  suspended  in  a  basket? 

(Socrates  is  discovered.) 
Disciple     (With  solemnity.) 
HIMSELF.     The  HE. 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  183 

Strepsiades 

The  HE?     What  HE? 

Disciple 

Why,  Socrates. 

Strepsiades 
Hah !  Socrates ! — {to  the  scholar)  Make  up  to  him  and  roar, 
Bid  him  come  down  I  roar  lustily! 

Disciple 

Not  I: 
Do  it  yourself;  Tve  other  things  to  mind.        (Exit.) 

Strepsiades 
•Hoa!  Socrates — What  hoa!  my  little  Socrates! 

Socrates 
Mortal,  how  now!     Thou  insect  of  a  day. 
What  wouldst  thou? 

Strepsiades 
I  would  know  what  thou  art  doing. 

Socrates 
I  tread  in  air,  contemplating  tne  sun. 

Strepsiades 
Ah!  then  I  see  you're  basketed  so  high, 
That  you  look  down  upon  the  gods — Good  hope. 
You'll  lower  a  peg  on  earth. 

Socrates 

Subhme  in  air. 
Sublime  in  thought,  I  carry  my  mind  with  me. 
Its  cogitations  all  assimilated 
To  the  pure  atmosphere  in  which  I  float. 
Lower  me  to  earth,  and  my  mind's  subtle  powers. 


184  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Seized  by  contagious  dulness,  lose  their  spirit; 
For  the  dry  earth  drinks  up  the  generous  sap, 
The  vegetating  vigor  of  philosophy, 
And  leaves  it  a  mere  husk. 

Strepsiades 

What  do  you  say? 
Philosophy  has  sapt  your  vigor?     Fie  upon  it. 
But  come,  my  precious  fellow,  come  down  quickly, 
And  teach  me  those  fine  things  I'm  here  in  quest  of. 

Socrates 
And  what  fine  things  are  they? 

Strepsiades 

A  new  receipt 
For  sending  off  my  creditors,  and  foihng  them 
By  the  art  logical;  for  you  shall  know 
By  debts,  pawns,  pledges,  usuries,  executions, 
I  am  rackt  and  rent  in  tatters. 

Socrates 

Why  permit  it? 
What  strange  infatuation  seized  your  senses? 

Strepsiades 
The  horse-consumption,  a  devouring  plague; 
But  so  you'll  enter  me  amongst  your  scholars. 
And  tutor  me  like  them  to  bilk  my  creditors, 
Name  your  own  price,  and  by  the  gods  I  swear 
I'll  pay  you  to  the  last  drachm. 

Socrates 

By  what  gods? 
Answer  that  first;  for  your  gods  are  not  mine. 

Strepsiades 
How  swear  you  then!  as  the  Byzantines  swear, 
By  their  own  base  iron  coin? 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  185 

Socrates 

Art  thou  ambitious 
To  be  instructed  in  celestial  matters, 
And  taught  to  know  them  clearly? 

Strepsiades 

Ay,  ay,  in  faith, 
So  they  be  to  my  purpose 

Socrates  descends,  and  straightway  prays  his  gods, 
the  Clouds,  to  come  to  aid.  As  in  all  Aristophanic  plays, 
mixt  with  satire  and  coarsest  buffoonery,  we  have  as  sweet 
a  strain  of  imaginative  nature  poetry  as  any  Greek  voice 
has  uttered. 

Socrates 
Keep  silence,  then,  and  listen  to  a  prayer, 
Which  fits  the  gravity  of  age  to  hear — 
Oh!  Air,  all-powerful  Air,  which  dost  enfold 
This  pendant  globe,  thou  vault  of  flaming  gold. 
Ye  sacred  Clouds,  who  bid  the  thunder  roll. 
Shine  forth,  approach,  and  cheer  your  suppliant's  soul! 

Strepsiades 

Hold,  keep  'em  off  a  while,  till  I  am  ready. 

Ah!  luckless  me,  would  I  had  brought  my  bonnet. 

And  so  escaped  a  soaking. 

{Chorus  of  Clouds.  The  scene  is  at  the  remotest  part  of  the 
stage.  Thunder  is  heard.  A  large  and  shapeless  cloud 
is  seen  floating  in  the  air,  from  which  the  following 
song  is  heard.) 

Ascend,  ye  watery  Clouds,  on  high. 
Daughters  of  Ocean,  climb  the  sky, 
And  o'er  the  mountain's  pinecapt  brow 
Towering,  your  fleecy  mantle  throw. 
Thence  let  us  scan  the  wide-stretched  scene, 


1 86  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Groves,  lawns,  and  rilling  streams  between, 
And  stormy  Neptune's  vast  expanse, 
And  grasp  all  nature  at  a  glance. 
Now  the  dark  tempest  flits  away, 
And  lo !  the  ghttering  orb  of  day 
Darts  forth  his  clear  ethereal  beam. 
Come  let  us  snatch  the  joyous  gleam. 

(Strepsiades  makes  a  comment  too  vulgar  for  trans- 
lation.) 

Socrates 

Forbear 
These  gross  scurrilities,  for  low  buffoons 
And  mountebanks  more  fitting.     Hush!  be  still, 
List  to  the  chorus  of  their  heavenly  voices. 
For  music  is  the  language  they  delight  in. 

Chorus  of  Clouds      (Approaching  nearer.) 

Ye  Clouds  replete  with  fruitful  showers. 
Here  let  us  seek  Minerva's*  towers, 
The  cradle  of  old  Cecrops'^  race. 
The  world's  chief  ornament  and  grace; 
Here  mystic  fanes  and  rites  divine 
And  lamps  in  sacred  splendor  shine; 
Here  the  gods  dwell  in  marble  domes, 
Feasted  with  costly  hecatombs, 
That  round  their  votive  statues  blaze. 
Whilst  crowded  temples  ring  with  praise; 
And  pompous  sacrifices  here 
Make  holidays  throughout  the  year. 
And  when  gay  springtime  comes  again, 
Bromius^  convokes  his  sportive  train, 
And  pipe  and  song  and  choral  dance 
Hail  the  soft  hours  as  they  advance. 

» Pallas  Athene,  guardian  of  Athens. 
'Founder  of  Athens. 
8  An  epithet  of  Bacchus. 


Aristophanes'  Clouds  187 

Strepsiades 
Now,  in  the  name  of  Jove,  I  pray  thee  tell  me 
Who  are  these  ranting  dames  that  talk  in  stilts? 
Of  the  Amazonian  cast  no  doubt.    • 

Socrates 

Not  so. 
No  dames,  but  Clouds  celestial,  friendly  powers 
To  men  of  sluggish  parts;  from  these  we  draw 
Sense,  apprehension,  volubility. 
Wit  to  confute,  and  cunning  to  ensnare. 

Strepsiades 
Ay,  therefore  *twas  that  my  heart  leapt  within  me 
For  very  sympathy  when  first  I  heard  'em: 
Now  I  could  prattle  shrewdly  of  first  causes, 
And  spin  out  metaphysic  cobwebs  finely. 
And  dogmatize  most  rarely,  and  dispute 
And  paradox  it  with  the  best  of  you. 

Socrates 
And  didst  thou  doubt  if  they  were  goddesses? 

Strepsiades 
Not  I,  so  help  me!  only  I'd  a  notion 
That  they  were  fog,  and  dew,  and  dusky  vapor. 

Socrates 
For  shame!  why,  man,  these  are  the  nursing  mothers 
Of  all  our  famous  sophists,  fortune-tellers, 
Quacks,  medicine-mongers,  bards  bombastical, 
Chorus-projectors,  star  interpreters. 
And  wonder-making  cheats. 

Strepsiades 
Welcome,  ladies ! 

Imperial  ladies,  welcome!  an'  it  please 
Your  highnesses  so  far  to  grace  a  mortal. 
Give  me  a  touch  of  your  celestial  voices. 


1 88  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Chorus 
Hail,  grandsire !  who  at  this  late  hour  of  life 
Wouldst  go  to  school  for  cunning;  and  all  hail, 
Thou  prince  pontifical  of  quirks  and  quibbles,* 
Speak  thy  full  mind,  make  known  thy  wants  and  wishes ! 
Thee  and  our  worthy  Prodicus^  excepted. 
Not  one  of  all  your  sophists  have  our  ear; 
Him  for  his  wit  and  learning  we  esteem. 
Thee  for  thy  proud  deportment  and  high  looks, 
In  barefoot  beggary  strutting  up  and  down. 
Content  to  suffer  mockery  for  our  sake, 
And  carry  a  grave  face  whilst  others  laugh. 

Strepsiades 
Oh !  Mother  Earth,  was  ever  voice  like  this, 
So  reverend,  so  portentous,  so  divine! 

Socrates 
These  are  your  only  deities,  all  else 
I  flout  at. 

Strepsiades 
Hold!  Olympian  Jupiter — 
Is  he  no  god? 

Socrates 
What  Jupiter?     What  god? 
Prythee  no  more — away  with  him  at  once! 

Strepsiades 
Sayst  thou?  who  gives  us  rain?  answer  me  that. 

Socrates 
These  give  us  rain;  as  I  will  straight  demonstrate: 
Come  on  now — When  did  you  e'er  see  it  rain 
Without  a  cloud?     If  Jupiter  gives  rain. 
Let  him  rain  down  his  favors  in  the  sunshine, 
Nor  ask  the  clouds  to  help  him. 

iThis,  of  course,  to  Socrates. 
2  A  famous  Sophist. 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  189 

Strepsiades 
You  have  hit  it. 
*Tis  so;  heaven  help  me: 
But  hear  ye  me,  who  thunders,  tell  me  that; 
For  then  it  is  I  tremble. 

Socrates 

These  then  thunder. 
When  they  are  tumbled. 

Strepsiades 

How,  blasphemer  how.? 

Socrates 
When  they  are  charged  with  vapors  full  to  the  bursting. 
And  bandied  to  and  fro  against  each  other. 
Then  with  the  shock  they  burst  and  crack  amain. 

Strepsiades 
And  who  is  he  that  jowls  them  thus  together 
But  Jove  himself? 

Socrates 
Jove !   'tis  not  Jove  that  does  it, 
But  the  setherial  Vortex. 

Strepsiades 

What  is  he? 
I  never  heard  of  him;  is  he  not  Jove? 
Or  is  Jove  put  aside,  and  Vortex  crowned 
King  of  Olympus  in  his  state  and  place? 

****** 

Socrates 
*Tis  well,  so  you  will  ratify  your  faith 
In  these  our  deities— CHAOS,  and  CLOUDS 
And  SPEECH— to  these  and  only  these  adhere. 


190  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades 
If  from  this  hour  henceforth  I  ever  waste 
A  single  thought  on  any  other  gods, 
Or  give  them  sacrifice,  Ubation,  incense. 
Nay,  even  common  courtesy,  renounce  me. 

Chorus 
Speak  your  wish  boldly  then,  so  shall  you  prosper 
As  you  obey  and  worship  us,  and  study 
The  wholesome  art  of  thriving. 

Strepsiades 
Gracious  ladies, 

I  ask  no  mighty  favor,  simply  this — 
Let  me  but  distance  every  tongue  in  Greece, 
And  run  'em  out  of  sight  a  hundred  lengths. 

Chorus 
Is  that  all?     There  we  are  your  friends  to  serve  you; 
We  will  endow  thee  with  such  powers  of  speech, 
As  henceforth  not  a  demagogue  in  Athens 
Shall  spout  such  popular  harangues  as  thou  shalt. 

Strepsiades 
A  fig  for  powers  of  spouting!  give  me  powers 
Of  nonsuiting  my  creditors. 

Chorus 

A  trifle — 
Granted  as  soon  as  asked;  only  be  bold, 
And  show  yourself  obedient  to  your  teachers. 

Strepsiades 
With  your  help  so  I  will,  being  undone, 
Stript  of  my  pelf  by  these  high-blooded  cattle, 
And  a  fine  dame,  the  torment  of  my  life. 
Now  let  them  work  their  wicked  will  upon  me; 
They're  welcome  to  my  carcass;  let  'em  claw  it. 
Starve  it  with  thirst  and  hunger,  fry  it,  freeze  it, 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  191 

Nay,  flay  the  very  skin  off;   'tis  their  own; 

So  that  I  may  but  rob  my  creditors, 

Let  the  world  talk;  I  care  not  though  it  call  me 

A  bold-faced,  loud-tongued,  over-bearing  bully; 

A  shameless,  vile,  prevaricating  cheat; 

A  tricking,  quibbling,  double-dealing  knave; 

A  prating,  pettifogging  limb  o'  the  law; 

A  sly  old  fox,  a  perjurer,  a  hang-dog. 

Chorus 
This  fellow  hath  a  prompt  and  daring  spirit. 

Despite  this  brave  beginning,  Strepsiades  turns  out  to 
be  a  hopeless  dunce,  even  at  the  arts  of  cheating.  The 
Clouds  advise  him,  if  he  has  an  apt  and  docile  son,  to 
send  him  instead  to  the  Socratic  school.  So  Pheidippides 
reluctantly  permits  himself  to  be  dragged  to  the  door. 

In  a  long  scene.  Just  and  Unjust  Argument,  or  as  we 
say,  the  Worse  and  Better  Reason,  appear  as  opponents. 
With  unusual  seriousness,  the  good  old  ways  of  Athens 
are  eulogized. 

DicoLOGOS.     (Better  Reason.) 
....  That  good  time. 
Which  I  have  seen,  when  discipline  prevailed, 
And  modesty  was  sanctioned  by  the  laws! 
No  babbling  then  was  suffered  in  our  schools, — 
The  scholar's  test  was  silence.     The  whole  group 
In  orderly  procession  sallied  forth 
Right  onwards,  without  straggling,  to  attend 
Their  teacher  in  harmonics;  though  the  snow 
Fell  on  them  thick  as  meal,  the  hardy  brood 
Breasted  the  storm  uncloaked;  their  harps  were  strung 
Not  to  ignoble  strains,  for  they  were  taught 
A  loftier  key,  whether  to  chant  the  name 
Of  Pallas,  terrible  amidst  the  blaze 
Of  cities  overthrown,  or  wide  and  far 


t^l  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

To  spread,  as  custom  was,  the  echoing  peal. 
There  let  no  low  buffoon  intrude  his  tricks. 
Woe  to  his  back  that  so  was  found  offending, 
Hard  stripes  and  heavy  would  reform  his  taste. 
Decent  and  chaste  their  postures  in  the  school 
Of  their  gymnastic  exercises. 
Hot  herbs,  the  old  man's  diet,  were  prescribed; 
No  radish,  anise,  parsley,  decked  their  board ; 
No  rioting,  no  reveling  was  there 
At  feast  or  frolic. 

Adicologos     (Worser  Reason.) 

Why  these  are  maxims  obsolete  and  stale; 
Worm-eaten  rules. 

DiCOLOGOS 

Yet  so  were  trained  the  heroes  that  imbrued 
The  field  of  Marathon  with  hostile  blood; 
This  discipline  it  was  that  braced  their  nerves 
And  fitted  them  for  conquest. 

Even  the  Chorus  sings: 

Chorus 

Oh!  sage  instructor,  how  sublime 
These  maxims  of  the  former  time! 
How  sweet  this  unpolluted  stream 
Of  eloquence,  how  pure  the  theme! 
Thrice  happy  they  whose  lot  was  cast 
Among  the  generation  past 
When  virtuous  morals  were  displayed 
And  these  grave  institutes  obeyed. 

Yet  the  Devil's  Advocate  proves   triumphantly  that 
these  are  all  hopelessly  antiquated  notions. 

Adicologos 
What  would  you  say  if  here  I  can  confute  you? 


Aristophanes'  Clouds  193 

DiCOLOGOS 

Nothing — my  silence  shall  confess  your  triumph. 

Adicologos 
Come  on  then — answer  me  to  what  I  ask. 
Our  advocates — what  are  they? 

DiCOLOGOS 

Vulgar  debauchees. 

Adicologos 
Our  tragic  poets — what  are  they? 

DiCOLOGOS 

The  same. 

Adicologos 
Good,  very  good! — our  demagogues — 

DiCOLOGOS 

No  better. 

Adicologos 
See  there !  discern  you  not  that  you  are  foiled? 
Cast  your  eyes  round  this  company.^ 

DiCOLOGOS 

I  do. 

Adicologos 
And  what  do  you  discover? 

DiCOLOGOS 

Numerous  birds 
Of  the  same  filthy  feather,  so  Heaven  help  me! 
This  man  I  mark;  and  this,  and  this  fine  fop 
With  his  curled  locks — To  all  these  I  can  swear. 

Adicologos 
What  say  you  then? 

iThe  audience. 


194  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

DiCOLOGOS 

I  say  I  am  confuted — 
Here,  wagtails,  catch  my  cloak — I'll  be  amongst  you. 

Socrates     {To  Strepsiades.) 
Now,  friend,  what  say  you?  who  shall  school  your  son? 

Strepsiades 
School  him  and  scourge  him!  take  him  to  yourself. 
And  mind  you  whet  him  to  an  edge  on  both  sides. 
This  for  slight  skirmish,  that  for  stronger  work. 

-    Socrates 
Doubt  not,  we'll  finish  him  to  your  content 
A  perfect  sophist. 

Pheidippides 
Perfect  skin  and  bone — 
That  I  can  well  believe. 

Socrates 

No  more — Away! 

(Strepsiades  retires.) 

Pheidippides 
{To  his  father,  as  he  follows  Socrates  into  the  house.) 
Trust  me,  you've  made  a  rod  for  your  own  back. 

Pheidippides  on  his  return  fulfills  this  parting  prophecy. 

Strepsiades 
Hoa  there!  What  hoa!     For  pity's  sake  some  help! 
Friends,  kinsmen,  countrymen,  turn  out  and  help! 
Oh!  my  poor  head,  my  cheeks  are  bruised  to  jelly — 
Help,  by  all  means! — Why,  thou  ungracious  cub 
Thy  father  wouldst  thou  beat? 

Pheidippides 

Assuredly. 


Aristophanes'  Clouds  195 


Strepsiades 
There !  he  owns  that  he  would  beat  his  father. 

Pheidippides 
I  own  it,  good  my  father. 

Strepsiades 
Parricide!     Impious  assassin!  sacrilegious  wretch! 

Pheidippides 
All,  all,  and  more — You  cannot  please  me  better; 
I  glory  in  these  attributes.     Go  on! 

Strepsiades 
Monster  of  turpitude ! 

Pheidippides 
Crown  me  with  roses! 

Strepsiades 
Wretch,  will  you  strike  your  parent.? 

Pheidippides 

Piously, 
And  will  maintain  the  right  by  which  I  do  it. 

Strepsiades 
O  shameless  villain!  can  there  be  a  right 
Against  all  nature  so  to  treat  a  father? 

Pheidippides 
That  I  shall  soon  make  clear  to  your  conviction. 

Strepsiades 
You,  you  convince  me? 

Pheidippides 

With  the  greatest  ease: 
And  I  can  work  the  proof  two  several  ways; 
Therefore  make  choice  between  them. 


196  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades 
What  do  you  mean? 

PHEIDrPPIDES 

I  mean  to  say  we  argue  up  or  down- 
Take  which  you  hke,  it  comes  to  the  same  end. 

Strepsiades 

Ay,  and  a  precious  end  you've  brought  it  to. 
If  all  my  care  of  you  must  end  in  this, 
That  I  have  put  you  in  the  way  to  beat  me, 
(Which  is  a  thing  unnatural  and  profane) 
And  after  justify  it. 

Pheidippides 

That  I'll  do 
By  process  clear  and  categorical. 
That  you  shall  fairly  own  yourself  a  convert 
To  a  most  wholesome  cudgeling. 

Strepsiades 

Come  on! 
Give  me  your  arguments — but  spare  your  blows. 
What  reason,  graceless  cub,  will  bear  you  out 
For  beating  me,  who  in  your  baby  age 
Caressed  you,  dandled  you  upon  my  knee. 
Watched  every  motion,  humored  all  your  wants? 

Pheidippides 

Now  then,  I  ask  you,  gathering  up  my  thread 
Where  it  was  broken  off,  if  you,  my  father, 
When  I  was  but  a  stripling,  spared  my  back? 

Strepsiades 

No,  for  I  studied  all  things  for  your  good, 
And  therefore  I  corrected  you. 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  197 

Pheidippides 

Agreed, 
I  also  am  like  studious  of  your  good, 
And  therefore  I  most  lovingly  correct  you; 
If  beating  be  a  proof  of  love,  you  have  it 
Plenteous  in  measure,  for  by  what  exemption 
Is  your  most  sacred  carcass  freed  from  stripes 
And  mine  made  subject  to  them?     Am  not  I 
Free-born  as  you?     Say,  if  the  son's  in  tears, 
Should  not  the  father  weep? 

Strepsiades 

By  what  one  rule 
Of  equity? 

Pheidippides 

What  equity  were  that 
If  none  but  children  were  to  be  chastised? 
And  grant  they  were,  the  proverb's  in  your  teeth 
Which  says  old  age  is  but  a  second  childhood. 
Again,  if  tears  are  seen  to  follow  blows, 
Ought  not  old  men  to  expiate  faults  with  tears 
Rather  than  children,  who  have  more  to  plead 
In  favor  of  their  failings? 

Strepsiades 

Where's  the  law 
That  warrants  such  proceeding?     There's  none  such. 

Pheidippides 

And  what  was  your  law-maker  but  a  man. 
Mortal  as  you  and  I  are?     And  tho'  time 
Has  sanctified  his  statutes,  may  not  I 
Take  up  the  cause  of  youth,  as  he  of  age, 
And  publish  a  new  ordinance  for  leave 
By  the  right-filial  to  correct  our  fathers? 


198  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades 
Cease  then  from  beating  me; 
Else  you  preclude  yourself. 

Pheidippides 

As  how  preclude? 

Strepsiades 
Because  the  right  I  have  of  beating  you 
Will  be  your  right  in  time  over  your  son 
When  you  shall  have  one. 

Pheidippides 

But  if  I  have  none, 
All  my  sad  hours  are  lost,  and  you  die  laughing. 

Strepsiades 
There's  no  denying  that. — How  say  you,  sirs? 
Methinks  there  is  good  matter  in  this  plea; 
And  as  for  us  old  sinners,  truth  to  say, 
If  we  deserve  a  beating  we  must  get  it. 

Pheidippides 
Hear  me, — there's  more  to  come — 

Strepsiades 

Then  I  am  lost. 
For  I  can  bear  no  more. 

Pheidippides 

Oh,  fear  it  not. 
Rather  believe  what  I  have  now  to  tell  you 
Will  cause  you  to  make  light  of  what  is  past, 
'Twill  bring  such  comfort  to  you. 

Strepsiades 

Let  me  have  it: 
Jf  it  be  comfort,  give  it  me. 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  199 

Pheidippides 

Then  know, 
Henceforth  I  am  resolved  to  beat  my  mother 
As  I  have  beaten  you. 

Strepsiades 
How  say  you?     How? 
Why  this  were  to  outdo  all  you  have  done. 

Pheidippides 
But  what  if  I  have  got  a  proof  in  petto  ^ 
To  show  the  moral  uses  of  this  beating? 

Strepsiades 
Show  me  a  proof  that  you  have  hanged  yourself, 
And  with  your  tutor  Socrates  beside  you 
Gone  to  the  devil  together  in  a  string. 
Nay,  nay,  but  rather  dread  avenging  Jove, 
God  of  our  ancestors,  and  him  revere. 

Pheidippides 
You're  mad,  methinks,  to  talk  to  me  of  Jove — 
Is  there  a  god  so  called? 

Strepsiades 

There  is!  there  is! 

Pheidippides 
There  is  no  Jupiter,  I  tell  you  so; 
Vortex  has  whirled  him  from  his  throne,  and  reigns 
By  right  of  conquest  in  the  Thunderer's  place. 

Strepsiades 
'Tis  false,  no  Vortex  reigns  but  in  my  brain. 

Pheidippides 
Laugh  at  your  own  dull  joke,  and  be  a  fool!        {Exit.) 

1  Within  one's  own  breast, 


200  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Strepsiades     (Striking  his  breast.) 
Insufferable  blockhead  that  I  was; 
What  ailed  me  thus  to  court  this  Socrates, 
Even  to  the  exclusion  of  the  immortal  gods? 

0  Mercury,  forgive  me;  be  not  angry. 
Dear  tutelary  god,  but  spare  me  still, 
And  cast  a  pitying  eye  upon  my  follies. 
For  I  have  been  intemperate  of  tongue. 
And  dearly  rue  it — Oh,  my  better  genius, 
Inspire  me  with  thy  counsel  how  to  act. 
Whether  by  legal  process  to  assail  them. 

Or  by  such  apter  means  as  thou  mayst  dictate. 

1  have  it!     Well  hast  thou  inspired  the  thought; 
Hence  with  the  lazy  law;  thou  art  not  for  it. 
With  fire  and  faggot  I  will  fall  upon  them. 
And  send  their  school  in  jumo^  to  the  Clouds. 

Hoa,  Xanthias  {calling  to  one  oj  his  slaves)  hoa,  bring  forth 

without  delay 
Your  ladder  and  your  mattock,  mount  the  roof. 
Break  up  the  rafters,  whelm  the  house  upon  them. 
And  bury  the  whole  hive  beneath  the  ruins. 

(Xanthias  mounts  the  roof  and  begins  working  with  his 

mattock.) 
Haste  I  if  you  love  me,  haste!     Oh,  for  a  torch, 
A  blazing  torch,  new-lighted,  to  set  fire 
To  the  infernal  edifice. — I  warrant  me 
ril  soon  unhouse  the  rascals,  that  now  carry 
Their  heads  so  high,  and  roll  them  in  the  dust. 

{One  oj  the  scholars  comes  out.) 

Disciple 
Woe !     Mischief !     Misery ! 

Strepsiades.     {Mounts  the  roof  and  fixes  a  torch  to  one  of 

the  joists.) 
Torch,  play  your  part : 
And  we  shall  muster  up  a  conflagration. 

1  In  smoke. 


Aristophanes*  Clouds  201 


Disciple 
What  are  you  doing,  fellow? 

Strepsiades 

Chopping  logic ! 
Arguing  a  knotty  point  with  your  housebeams. 

Disciple 
Undone,  and  ruined — ! 

Strepsiades 

Heartily  I  wish  it — 
And  mean  you  should  be  so  if  this  same  mattock 
Does  not  deceive  my  hope,  and  I  escape 
With  a  whole  neck. 

(Socrates  comes  forth.) 

Socrates 

Hoa  there !     What  man  is  that? 
You  there,  upon  the  roof — what  are  you  doing? 

Strepsiades 
** Treading  on  air — contemplating  the  sun!" 

With  this  merciless  repetition  of  Socrates'  first  words 
to  him,  Strepsiades  must  have  ** brought  down  the  house.'* 
Literally,  at  any  rate,  he  does  so,  and  the  conflagration  of 
the  Thinking-shop  makes  a  spectacular  close  for  the  play. 

That  this  drama  contributed  to  the  condemnation  of 
Socrates  years  later  is  by  no  means  hard  to  believe.  Cer- 
tainly both  Plato,  in  the  *' Apology,"  and  Xenophon,  in 
numerous  passages  of  the  ** Recollection  of  Socrates," 
endeavored  to  meet  and  refute  prejudices  and  calumnies 
which  can  have  had  no  other  source. 


202  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  most  famous  translations  from  Aristophanes  are  John 
Hookham  Frere's  versions  of  the  "Acharnians,"  "Birds," 
"Knights,"  and  "Frogs."  They  are  most  ingeniously  rhymed, 
of  course  far  from  literal,  and  necessarily  much  expurgated. 
Kennedy's  "Birds"  is  also  clever.  J.  B.  Rogers  has  prepared  a 
complete  translation  of  all  the  eleven  comedies,  and  is  publishing 
them  successively  in  sumptuous  volumes.  The  version  here  used, 
in  part,  appeared  among  T.  Mitchell's  selected  versions,  in  a  small 
volume  of  the  British  Poets  in  1822,  but  the  "Clouds"  was  actu- 
ally translated  by  "the  late  Mr.  Cumberland." 

The  best  and  frankest  discussion  of  Aristophanes  is  in 
Symonds'  "Greek  Poets."  Professor  Shorey  has  an  excellent 
short  paper,  with  original  translations,  in  the  Warner  Library. 
The  entrance  song  of  the  "Clouds"  is  universally  admired.  A 
special  translation  of  the  passage  by  Oscar  Wilde  will  be  found  in 
Appleton's  "Greek  Poets,"  and  another  by  Andrew  Lang  in 
Professor  Capp's  well-packed  volume,  entitled  "From  Homer  to 
Theocritus." 


CHAPTER    X 

HERODOTUS 

The  Battle  of  Salamis. 

The  first  great  prose  writer  of  Greece  has  Uttle  like- 
ness to  any  modern  historian.  His  volume  shows  the 
influence  of  both  epic  and  tragic  poetry.  He  is  no  student 
of  original  documents,  but  the  prince  of  story-tellers. 
He  sets  forth  the  popular  traditions,  as  to  glorious  exploits 
in  the  nation's  past,  and  adds  freely  his  own  imaginative 
embroidery.  Though  well  aware  of  the  merits  in  the  cul- 
ture of  Oriental  peoples,  he  has  a  large  and  enthusiastic 
pride  in  his  own  Greek  race. 

The  repulse  of  Xerxes'  great  invasion  was  a  splendid 
and  successful  struggle  for  Greek  freedom.  Indirectly 
that  contest  was  ours  no  less,  since  our  Hfe  is  so  largely 
Greek  in  form  and  spirit.  No  historical  author  ever  had 
a  nobler  and  fitter  theme. 

The  story  culminates  in  the  account  of  the  battle  at 
Salamis  (480  B.C.).  The  Spartan  king  Leonidas  had 
perished,  with  all  his  men,  in  the  pass  at  Thermopylae. 
Athens  was  captured  and  sacked.  The  Persian  host,  the 
largest  army  that  ever  assembled,  was  pouring  on  toward 
the  Peloponnese.  The  Greek  fleet,  after  one  or  two  suc- 
cessful skirmishes,  had  retreated  along  the  coast,  to  the 
little  bay  between  the  island  of  Salamis  and  the  Attic 
mainland.  The  commanders  from  the  various  cities  were 
panic-stricken,  and  preparing  to  flee  each  to  his  home, 

?03 


204  Ideals  In  Greek  Literature 

That  meant  prompt  and  easy  enslavement  of  all  Greeks 
by  Xerxes. 

Then  the  Athenian  Themistocles,  who  alone  had  fore- 
seen the  war,  and  insisted  on  the  equipment  of  the  fleet, 
by  a  desperate  trick  forced  the  unwilling  Greeks  to  turn  and 
fight.  Thus  in  a  single  day  Athens  became  the  leader  of 
maritime  Hellas.  Of  the  four  hundred  Greek  ships  that 
here  defeated  thrice  their  number,  the  Athenians  had 
manned  more  than  half. 

A  series  of  extracts  will  give  at  least  a  vivid  glimpse 
of  the  scene. 

In  the  council  of  sea-captains  Themistocles  addresses 
the  Spartan  admiral:  the  Spartans  having  insisted  on 
their  traditional  leadership  even  on  the  sea. 

Translation 

**With  thee  it  rests,  O  Eurybiades,  to  save  Greece,  if 
thou  wilt  only  hearken  unto  me,  and  give  the  enemy 
battle  here,  rather  than  yield  to  the  advice  of  those  among 
us  who  would  have  the  fleet  withdrawn  to  the  Isthmus. 
Hear  now,  I  beseech  thee,  and  judge  between  the  two 
courses.  At  the  Isthmus  thou  wilt  fight  in  an  open  sea, 
which  is  greatly  to  our  disadvantage,  since  our  ships  are 
heavier  and  fewer  in  number  than  the  enemy's;  and 
further,  thou  wilt  in  any  case  lose  Salamis,  Megara,  and 
Egina,^  even  if  all  the  rest  goes  well  with  us.  The  land 
and  sea  force  of  the  Persians  will  advance  together;  and 
thy  retreat  will  but  draw  them  toward  the  Peloponnese, 
and  so  bring  all  Greece  into  peril.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
thou  dost  as  I  advise,  these  are  the  advantages  which  thou 
wilt  secure :  in  the  first  place,  as  we  shall  fight  in  a  narrow 
sea  with  few  ships  against  many,  if  the  war  follows  the 
common  course  we  shall  gain  a  great  victory;  for  to  fight 
in  a  narrow  space  is  favorable  to  us — in  an  open  sea  to 

» Lying  between  Attica  and  the  Peloponnesus. 


Herodotus  205 

them.  Again,  Salamis  will  in  this  case  be  preserved, 
where  we  have  placed  our  wives  and  children.  Nay,  that 
very  point  by  which  ye  set  most  store,  is  secured  as  much 
by  this  course  as  by  the  other;  for  whether  we  fight  here 
or  at  the  Isthmus  we  shall  equally  give  battle  in  defence 
of  the  Peloponnese.  Assuredly,  ye  will  not  do  well  to 
draw  the  Persians  upon  that  region.  For  if  things  turn 
out  as  I  anticipate,  and  we  beat  them  by  sea,  then  we 
shall  have  kept  your  Isthmus  free  from  th^  barbarians, 
and  they  will  have  advanced  no  further  than  Attica,  but 
from  thence  have  fled  back  in  disorder. ' ' 

When  Themistocles  had  thus  spoken,  Adeimantus  the 
Corinthian  again  attacked  him,  and  bade  him  be  silent, 
since  he  was  a  man  without  a  city;  at  the  same  time  he 
called  upon  Eurybiades  not  to  put  the  question  at  the 
instance  of  one  who  had  no  country,  and  urged  that 
Themistocles  should  show  of  what  state  he  was  an  envoy, 
before  he  gave  voice  with  the  rest.  This  reproach  he 
made,  because  the  city  of  Athens  had  been  taken,  and 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  barbarians.  Hereupon  Themis- 
tocles spoke  many  bitter  things  against  Adeimantus  and 
the  Corinthians  generally;  and  for  proof  that  he  had  a 
country,  reminded  the  captains,  that  with  two  hundred 
ships  at  his  command,  all  fully  manned  for  battle,  he  had 
both  city  and  territory  as  good  as  theirs ;  since  there  was 
no  Grecian  state  which  could  resist  his  men  if  they  made 
a  descent. 

(This  appeal  was  at  first  successful,  but  next  day  the 
panic  was  renewed.) 

Then  Themistocles,  when  he  saw  that  the  Pelopon- 
nesians  would  carry  the  vote  against  him,  went  out  secretly 
from  the  council,  and,  instructing  a  certain  man  what  he 
should  say,  sent  him  on  board  a  merchant  ship  to  the  fleet 
of  the  Medes.  This  man's  name  was  Sicinnus,  and  he 
acted  as  tutor  to  Themistocles'  sons. 

The  ship  brought  Sicinnus  to  the  Persian  fleet,  and 


2o6  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

there  he  delivered  his  message  to  the  leaders  in  these 
words : — 

**The  Athenian  commander  has  sent  me  to  you  privily, 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  other  Greeks.  He  is  a 
well-wisher  to  the  King's  cause,  and  would  rather  success 
should  attend  on  you  than  on  his  countrymen,  wherefore 
he  bids  me  tell  you  fear  has  seized  the  Greeks  and  they 
are  meditating  a  hasty  flight.  Now  then,  it  is  open  to 
you  to  achieve  the  best  work  that  ever  ye  wrought,  if  only 
ye  will  hinder  their  escaping.  They  no  longer  agree 
among  themselves,  so  that  they  will  not  now  make  any 
resistance — nay,  'tis  likely  ye  may  see  a  fight  already 
begun  between  such  as  favor  and  such  as  oppose  your 
cause."  The  messenger,  when  he  had  thus  expressed 
himself,  departed  and  was  seen  no  more. 

Then  the  captain,  believing  all  that  the  messenger  had 
said,  proceeded  to  land  a  large  body  of  Persian  troops  on 
the  islet  of  Psyttaleia,  which  lies  between  Salamis  and  the 
mainland;  after  which,  about  the  hour  of  midnight,  they 
advanced  their  western  wing  toward  Salamis,  so  as  to 
inclose  the  Greeks. 

Meanwhile,  among  the  captains  at  Salamis,  the  strife 
of  words  grew  fierce.  As  yet  they  did  not  know  that  they 
were  encompassed,  but  imagined  that  the  barbarians 
remained  in  the  same  places  where  they  had  seen  them 
the  day  before. 

In  the  midst  of  their  contention,  Aristides,  the  son  of 
Lysimachus,  who  had  crossed  from  Egina,  arrived  in 
Salamis.  He  was  an  Athenian,  and  had  been  ostracized 
by  the  commonalty;  yet  I  believe,  from  what  I  have  heard 
concerning  his  character,  that  there  was  not  in  all  Athens 
a  man  so  worthy  or  so  just  as  he.  He  now  came  to  the 
council,  and,  standing  outside,  called  for  Themistocles. 
Now  Themistocles  was  not  his  friend,  but  his  most  deter- 
mined enemy.  However,  under  the  pressure  of  the  great 
dangers  impending,  Aristides  forgot  their  feud,  and  called 
Themistocles  out  of  the  council,  since  he  wished  to  confer 
with  him.     He  had  heard  before  his  arrival  of  the  impa- 


Herodotus  207 

tience  of  the  Peloponnesians  to  withdraw  the  fleet  to  the 
Isthmus.  As  soon  therefore  as  Themistocles  came  forth, 
Aristides  addressed  him  in  these  words: — 

*'Our  rivalry  at  all  times,  and  especially  at  the  present 
season,  ought  to  be  a  struggle  which  of  us  shall  most 
advantage  our  country.  Let  me  then  say  to  thee,  that  so 
far  as  regards  the  departure  of  the  Peloponnesians  from 
this  place,  much  talk  and  little  will  be  found  precisely 
alike.  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes  that  which  I  now 
report :  That  however  much  the  Corinthians  or  Eurybiades 
himself  may  wish  it,  they  cannot  now  retreat;  for  we  are 
enclosed  on  every  side  by  the  enemy.  Go  in  to  them, 
and  make  this  known. ' ' 

— At  the  dawn  of  day  all  the  men-at-arms  were  assem- 
bled together,  and  speeches  were  made  to  them,  of  which 
the  best  was  that  of  Themistocles,  who  throughout  contrast- 
ed what  was  noble  with  what  was  base,  and  bade  them,  in 
all  that  came  within  the  range  of  man's  nature  and  con- 
stitution, always  to  make  choice  of  the  nobler  part. 
Having  thus  wound  up  the  discourse  he  told  them  to  go 
at  once  on  board  their  ships. 

The  fleet  had  scarce  left  the  land  when  they  were 
attacked  by  the  barbarians.  At  once  most  of  the  Greeks 
began  to  back  water,  and  were  about  touching  the  shore, 
when  Ameinias  of  Pallene,  one  of  the  Athenian  captains, 
darted  forth  in  front  of  the  line  and  charged  a  ship  of  the 
enemy.  The  two  vessels  became  entangled,  and  could 
not  separate,  whereupon  the  rest  of  the  fleet  came  up  to 
help  Ameinias,  and  engaged  with  the  Persians.  It  is  also 
reported  that  a  phantom  in  the  form  of  a  woman  appeared 
to  the  Greeks,  and,  in  a  voice  that  was  heard  from  end  to 
end  of  the  fleet  cheered  them  on  to  the  fight;  first,  how- 
ever rebuking  them,  and  saying — **  Strange  men,  how  long 
are  ye  going  to  back  water." 

Far  the  greater  number  of  the  Persians'  ships  engaged 
in  this  battle  were  disabled.  For  as  the  Greeks  fought  in 
order  and  kept  their  line,  while  the  barbarians  were  in 
confusion,  and  had  no  plan  in  anything  that  they  did,  the 


2o8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

issue  of  the  battle  could  scarce  be  other  than  it  was.  Yet 
the  Persians  fought  far  more  bravely  here  than  before, 
and  indeed  surpassed  themselves;  each  did  his  utmost 
through  fear  of  Xerxes,  for  each  thought  that  the  King's 
eye  was  upon  himself. 

What  part  the  several  nations,  whether  Greek  or  bar- 
barian, took  in  the  combat,  I  am  not  able  to  say  for  cer- 
tain. Artemisia,^  however,  I  know,  distinguished  herself 
in  such  a  way  as  raised  her  even  higher  than  she  stood 
before  in  the  esteem  of  the  King.  For  after  confusion 
had  spread  throughout  the  whole  of  the  King's  fleet,  and 
her  ship  was  closely  pursued  by  an  Athenian  trireme,  she, 
having  no  way  to  fly,  since  in  front  of  her  were  a  number 
of  friendly  vessels,  and  she  was  nearest  of  all  the  Persians 
to  the  enemy,  resolved  on  a  measure  which  in  fact  proved 
her  safety.  Pressed  by  the  Athenian  pursuer,  she  bore 
straight  against  one  of  the  ships  of  her  own  party,  a 
Calyndian,  which  had  Damasithymus,  the  Calyndian  king 
himself,  on  board.  I  cannot  say  whether  she  had  any 
quarrel  with  the  man  while  the  fleet  was  at  the  Hellespont, 
or  no — neither  can  I  decide  whether  she  of  set  purpose 
attacked  his  vessel,  or  whether  it  merely  chanced  that  the 
Calyndian  ship  came  in  her  way — but  certain  it  is,  that 
she  bore  down  upon  his  vessel  and  sank  it,  and  that 
thereby  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  procure  herself  a 
double  advantage.  For  the  commander  of  the  Athenian 
trireme,  when  he  saw  her  bear  down  on  one  of  the  enemy's 
fleet,  thought  immediately  that  her  vessel  was  a  Greek, 
or  else  had  deserted  from  the  Persians,  and  was  now 
fighting  on  the  Greek  side;  he  therefore  gave  up  the  chase, 
and  turned  away  to  attack  others. 

Thus  in  the  first  place  she  saved  her  life  by  the  action, 
and  was  enabled  to  get  clear  off  from  the  battle;  while 
further,  it  fell  out  that  in  the  very  act  of  doing  the  King 
an  injury,  she  raised  herself  to  a  greater  height  than  ever 
in  his  esteem.  For  as  Xerxes  beheld  the  fight  he  remarked, 
it  is  said,  the  destruction  of  the  vessel,  whereupon  the 

» Queen  of  Halicarnassus,  Herodotus'  native  city.  Though  a  Persian,  a 
tyrant,  and  an  unscrupulous  trickster,  she  is  clearly  a  favorite  of  the  chronicler. 


Herodotus  209 

bystanders  observed  to  him — *'Seest  thou,  master,  how 
well  Artemisia  fights,  and  how  she  has  just  sunk  a  ship 
of  the  enemy?"  Then  Xerxes  asked  if  it  were  really 
Artemisia's  doing;  and  they  all  answered,  '* Certainly,  for 
they  knew  her  ensign:"  while  all  made  certain  that  the 
sunken  vessel  belonged  to  the  opposite  side.  Everything, 
it  is  said,  conspired  to  prosper  the  queen — it  was  espe- 
cially fortunate  for  her  that  none  of  those  on  board  the 
Calyndian  ship  survived  to  be  her  accuser.  Xerxes,  they 
say,  in  reply  to  the  remarks  made  to  him,  observed — '*My 
men  have  behaved  like  women,  my  women  like  men!" 

Of  the  Greeks  there  died  only  a  few;  for  as  they  were 
able  to  swim,  all  those  that  were  not  killed  outright  by 
the  enemy  escaped  from  the  sinking  vessels  and  swam 
across  to  Salamis.  But  on  the  side  of  the  barbarians 
more  perished  by  drowning  than  in  any  other  way,  since 
they  did  not  know  how  to  swim.  The  great  destruction 
took  place  when  the  ships  that  had  been  first  engaged 
began  to  fly,  for  they  who  were  stationed  in  the  rear, 
anxious  to  display  their  valor  before  the  eyes  of  the  King, 
made  every  effort  to  force  their  way  to  the  front,  and 
thus  became  entangled  with  such  of  their  own  vessels  as 
were  retreating. 

In  this  confusion  the  following  event  occurred:  Cer- 
tain Phoenicians  belonging  to  the  ships  which  had  thus 
perished  appeared  before  the  king,  and  laid  the  blame  of 
their  loss  on  the  lonians,  ^  declaring  that  they  were  traitors, 
and  had  wilfully  destroyed  the  vessels.  But  the  upshot 
of  this  complaint  was,  that  the  Ionian  captains  escaped 
the  death  that  threatened  them,  while  their  Phoenician 
accusers  received  death  as  their  reward.  For  it  happened 
that,  exactly  as  they  spoke,  a  Samothracian^  vessel  bore 
down  on  an  Athenian  and  sank  it,  but  was  attacked  and 
crippled  immediately  by  one  of  the  Eginetan  squadron. 
Now  the  Samothracians  were  expert  with  the  javelin,  and 
aimed  their  weapons  so  well  that  they  cleared  the  deck  of 

1  Asiatic  Greeks,  then  subject  to  Xerxes  and  serving  under  him.     At  the 
close  of  this  war  most  of  them  were  liberated,  and  joined  the  Athenian  alliance. 
2Samothrace,  a  Greek  island,  was  then  subject  to  Xerxes. 


2IO  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

the  vessel  which  had  disabled  their  own,  after  which  they 
sprang  on  board,  and  took  it.  This  saved  the  lonians. 
Xerxes,  when  he  saw  the  exploit,  turned  fiercely  on  the 
Phoenicians, — (he  was  ready,  in  his  extreme  vexation,  to 
find  fault  with  any  one) — and  ordered  their  heads  to  be 
cut  off,  in  order  to  prevent  them,  as  he  said,  from  casting 
the  blame  of  their  own  misconduct  upon  braver  men. 
During  the  whole  time  of  the  battle  Xerxes  sat  at  the  base 
of  the  hill  called  ^galeos,^  over  against  Salamis;  and 
whenever  he  saw  any  of  his  own  captains  perform  any 
worthy  exploit  he  inquired  concerning  him;  and  the  man*s 
name  was  taken  down  by  his  scribes,  together  with  the 
name  of  his  father  and  his  city. 

The  Athenian  captains  had  received  special  orders 
touching  the  queen;  and  moreover  a  reward  of  ten  thou- 
sand drachmas  had  been  proclaimed  for  any  one  who 
should  make  her  prisoner;  since  there  was  great  indigna- 
tion felt  that  a  woman  should  appear  in  arms  against 
Athens.     However,  as  I  have  said,  she  escaped. 

As  soon  as  the  sea-fight  was  ended,  the  Greeks  drew 
together  to  Salamis  all  the  wrecks  that  were  to  be  found 
in  that  quarter,  and  prepared  themselves  for  another 
engagement,  supposing  that  the  King  would  renew  the 
fight  with  the  vessels  which  still  remained  to  him. 

Xerxes,  when  he  saw  the  extent  of  his  loss,  began  to 
be  afraid  that  the  Greeks  might  be  counselled  by  the 
lonians,  or  without  their  advice  might  determine,  to  sail 
straight  to  the  Hellespont  and  break  down  the  bridges 
there;  in  which  case  he  would  be  blocked  up  in  Europe, 
and  run  great  risk  of  perishing.  He  therefore  made  up 
his  mind  to  fly. 

It  was  of  course  largely  the  cowardice  of  Xerxes  that 
made  this  brief  sea-fight  so  decisive.  He  left  300,000 
picked  men  to  complete  the  conquest  of  Greece.  These 
were  defeated  and  utterly  destroyed  the  next  summer  at 
Plataea.     Never  again  did  a  Persian  soldier  march  through 

1  In  Attica. 


Herodotus  211 

the  pass  of  Thermopylae,  never  did  the  sail  of  a  Persian 
warship  darken  the  waters  of  the  Hellenic  peninsula. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  most  exhaustive  work  on  Herodotus  in  any  language  is 
by  George  Rawlinson,  in  four  volumes.  It  includes  a  rather  florid 
translation,  comment,  and  extended  essays.  The  two-volume  edi- 
tion published  by  Scribner  omits  the  longer  excursuses.  The 
translation  of  Macaulay  is  much  simpler,  and  nearer  to  the  tone  of 
the  original.  In  the  series  called  Classical  Writers,  the  volume 
on  Herodotus  is  by  James  Bryce,  and  is  of  much  interest.  Pro- 
fessor B.  I.  Wheeler's  essay  in  the  Warner  Library  discusses 
especially  the  travels  of  the  chronicler,  and  the  probable  develop- 
ment of  his  literary  plan.  The  "Boys'  Herodotus,"  or  Church's 
"Stories  from  Herodotus,"  both  somewhat  expurgated,  may  be 
more  suitable  for  immature  readers. 


CHAPTER    XI 

THUCYDIDES 
The  Periclean  Funeral  Oration. 

It  is  a  story  oft-repeated,  in  various  forms,  that  the 
second  great  Greek  historian  was  roused  to  emulation,  in 
boyhood,  by  hearing  Herodotus  read  in  public  from  his 
chronicle.  But  in  spirit  the  twain  are  very  far  apart. 
The  marvelous  elements,  the  divine  interventions,  the 
oracles,  have  almost  vanished  from  the  scene  in  which 
the  tragic  story  of  Athens*  fatal  war  against  Sparta  and 
the  allies  is  austerely  revealed.  Human  action,  and  purely 
human  motive,  mercilessly  laid  bare,  fill  nearly  the  whole 
view. 

Yet  the  feeling  for  dramatic  form  is  by  no  means  lost. 
The  dreadful  defeat  in  the  harbor  of  Syracuse  in  this  tale, 
like  the  sea-fight  by  Salamis  in  Herodotus,  is  the  supreme 
crisis  of  fate.  Doubtless  Thucydides  intended  to  complete 
the  record  of  the  war,  down  to  Athens'  ignominious  fall. 
But  the  work  as  we  have  it  can  hardly  be  called  a  frag- 
ment, anymore  than  the  **niad,"  which  only  foreshad- 
ows, not  describes,  the  fall  of  Troy. 

One  trick  of  both  the  supreme  historians  seems  to  us 
audacious.  In  detailed  speeches,  often  quite  fictitious, 
the  motives  and  aims  of  the  leading  men  and  states  are 
vividly  set  forth.  In  a  few  cases  the  narrator  is  clearly 
following  the  main  lines  of  a  speech  which  he  had  him- 
self heard. 

212 


Thucydides  213 

Most  of  all  is  this  probable  in  the  noble  memorial  ora- 
tion said  to  have  been  delivered  by  Pericles,  the  largest 
minded  of  Greek  statesmen,  over  the  Athenian  soldiers 
slain  in  the  first  campaign  of  the  war.  It  delineates  in 
grand  outlines  the  spirit  and  policy  of  the  imperial  city. 
In  most  readers  it  inspires  a  strong  conviction  that  Athens 
was  fitted  to  be,  and  should  have  become,  the  capital  of  a 
stronger,  more  united,  and  better  developed  Hellas  than 
selfish  conservative  Sparta  could  ever  conceive.  Just  how 
much  of  this  speech  we  owe  to  the  statesman,  how  much 
to  the  equally  patriotic  and  large-souled  Athenian  historian, 
perhaps  the  latter  himself  could  not  have  told.  Quite 
unlike  his  usual  rather  cold  style  is  the  idealist  tone,  the 
glow  of  pride,  with  which  Athens'  right  to  national  leader- 
ship is  here  proclaimed.  The  oration  is  in  certain  quahties 
almost  un-Thucydidean,  but  it  is  those  very  traits  that 
make  it  indispensable  in  this  volume. 

The  Funeral  Oration 
During  the  same  winter,  in  accordance  with  an  old 
national  custom,  the  funeral  of  those  who  first  fell  in  this 
war  was  celebrated  by  the  Athenians  at  the  public  charge. 
The  ceremony  is  as  follows:  Three  days  before  the  cele- 
bration they  erect  a  tent  in  which  the  bones  of  the  dead 
are  laid  out,  and  everyone  brings  to  his  own  dead  any 
offering  which  he  pleases.  At  the  time  of  the  funeral  the 
bodies  are  placed  in  chests  of  cypress  wood,  which  are 
conveyed  on  hearses;  there  is  one  chest  for  each  tribe. 
They  also  carry  a  single  empty  litter,  decked  with  a  pall, 
for  all  whose  bodies  are  missing,  and  cannot  be  recovered 
after  the  battle.  The  procession  is  accompanied  by  any 
one  who  chooses,  whether  citizen  or  stranger,  and  the 
female  relatives  of  the  deceased  are  present  at  the  place  of 
interment  and  make  lamentation.  The  public  sepulchre  is 
situated  in  the  most  beautiful  spot  outside  the  walls;  there 


214  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

they  always  bury  those  who  fall  in  war.  When  the  re- 
mains have  been  laid  in  the  earth,  some  man  of  known 
ability  and  high  reputation,  chosen  by  the  city,  delivers  a 
suitable  oration  over  them,  after  which  the  people  depart. 
Such  is  the  manner  of  interment,  and  the  ceremony  was 
repeated  from  time  to  time  throughout  the  war.  Over 
those  who  were  the  first  buried  Pericles  was  chosen  to 
speak.  At  the  fitting  moment  he  advanced  from  the 
sepulchre  to  a  lofty  stage,  which  had  been  erected  in 
order  that  he  might  be  heard  as  far  as  possible  by  the 
multitude,  and  spoke  as  follows: 

*'l  should  have  preferred  that,  when  men's  deeds  have 
been  brave,  they  should  be  honored  in  deed  only,  and  with 
such  honor  as  this  public  funeral,  which  you  are  now  wit- 
nessing. Then  the  reputation  of  many  would  not  have 
been  imperilled  on  the  eloquence  or  want  of  eloquence  of 
one,  and  their  virtues  believed  or  not  as  he  spoke  well  or 
ill.  For  it  is  difficult  to  say  neither  too  little  nor  too 
much;  and  even  moderation  is  apt  not  to  give  the  impres- 
sion of  truthfulness.  However,  since  our  ancestors  have 
set  the  seal  of  their  approval  on  the  practice,  I  must  obey, 
and  to  the  utmost  of  my  power  shall  endeavor  to  satisfy 
the  wishes  and  beliefs  of  all  who  hear  me. 

**I  will  speak  first  of  our  ancestors,  for  it  is  right  and 
becoming  that  now,  when  we  are  lamenting  the  dead,  a 
tribute  should  be  paid  to  their  memory.  There  has  never 
been  a  time  when  they  did  not  inhabit  this  land,  ^  which  by 
their  valor  they  have  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation,  and  we  have  received  from  them  a  free  state. 
But  if  they  were  worthy  of  praise,  still  more  were  our 
fathers,  who  added  to  their  inheritance,  and  after  many  a 
struggle  transmitted  to  us  their  sons  this  great  empire. 
And  we  ourselves  assembled  here  to-day,  who  are  most  of 
us  still  in  the  vigor  of  Hfe,  have  mostly  done  the  work  of 
improvement,  and  have  richly  endowed  our  city  with  all 
things,  so  that  she  is  sufficient  for  herself  both  in  peace 
and  in  war.     Of  the  military  exploits  by  which  our  vari- 

^Tbe  Athenians  prided  theipgelves  on  being  autochthonous;  sprung  froqa 
tbe  soil. 


Thucydides  215 

ous  possessions  were  acquired,  or  the  energy  with  which 
we  or  our  fathers  drove  back  the  tide  of  war,  Hellenic  or 
Barbarian,  I  will  not  speak;  for  the  tale  would  be  long 
and  is  familiar  to  you.  But  before  I  praise  the  dead  I 
should  like  to  point  out  by  what  principles  we  rose  to 
power,  and  under  what  institutions  or  through  what  man- 
ner of  life  our  empire  became  great.  For  I  conceive  that 
such  thoughts  are  not  unsuited  to  the  occasion,  and  that 
this  numerous  assembly  of  citizens  and  strangers  may 
profitably  Hsten  to  them. 

*'Our  form  of  government  does  not  enter  into  rivalry 
with  the  institutions  of  others.  We  do  not  copy  our 
neighbors,  but  are  an  example  to  them.  It  is  true  that 
we  are  called  a  democracy,  for  the  administration  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  many,  and  not  of  the  few.  But  while  the 
law  secures  equal  justice  for  all  alike  in  their  private  dis- 
putes, the  claim  of  excellence  is  also  recognized;  and 
when  a  citizen  is  in  any  way  distinguished,  he  is  preferred 
to  the  public  service,  not  as  a  matter  of  privilege,  but  as 
a  reward  of  merit.  Neither  is  poverty  a  bar,  but  a  man 
may  benefit  his  country  whatever  be  the  obscurity  of  his 
position.  There  is  no  exclusiveness  in  our  public  life,  and 
in  our  private  intercourse  we  are  not  suspicious  of  one 
another,  nor  angry  with  our  neighbor  if  he  does  what  he 
likes;  we  do  not  put  on  sour  looks  at  him  which,  though 
harmless,  are  unpleasant.  While  we  are  thus  uncon- 
strained in  our  private  intercourse,  a  spirit  of  reverence 
pervades  our  public  acts;  we  are  prevented  from  doing 
wrong  by  respect  for  authority  and  for  the  laws,  having 
especial  regard  to  those  which  are  ordained  for  the  pro- 
tection of  the  injured  as  well  as  those  unwritten  laws 
which  bring  upon  the  transgressor  of  them  the  reproba- 
tion of  the  general  sentiment. 

"And  we  have  not  forgotten  to  provide  for  our  weary 
spirits  many  relaxations  from  toil;  we  have  regular  games 
and  sacrifices  throughout  the  year;  at  home  the  style  of 
our  life  is  refined;  and  the  delight  which  we  daily  feel  in 
all  these  things  helps  to  banish  melancholy.     Because  of 


Cr  -HE 

UNlVEHSiTY  )i 

OF         '  '' 


21 6  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

the  greatness  of  our  city  the  fruits  of  the  whole  earth  jflow 
in  upon  us;  so  that  we  enjoy  the  goods  of  other  countries 
as  freely  as  our  own. 

**Then  again,  our  military  training  is  in  many  ways 
superior  to  that  of  our  adversaries.  Our  city  is  thrown 
open  to  the  world,  and  we  never  expel  a  foreigner  or  pre- 
vent him  from  seeing  or  learning  anything  of  which  the 
secret,  if  revealed  to  an  enemy  might  profit  him.  We  do 
not  rely  upon  management  or  trickery,  but  upon  our  own 
hearts  and  hands.  And  in  the  matter  of  education, 
whereas  they  are  always  from  early  youth  undergoing 
laborious  exercises  which  are  to  make  them  brave,  we  live 
at  ease,  and  yet  are  equally  ready  to  face  the  perils  which 
they  face.  And  here  is  the  proof.  The  Lacedaemonians 
come  into  Attica  not  by  themselves,  but  with  their  whole 
confederacy  following;  we  go  alone  into  a  neighbor's 
country;  and  although  our  opponents  are  fighting  for  their 
homes,  and  we  on  a  foreign  soil,  we  have  seldom  any 
difficulty  in  overcoming  them.  Our  enemies  have  never 
yet  felt  our  united  strength;  the  care  of  a  navy  divides 
our  attention,  and  on  land  we  are  obliged  to  send  our 
own  citizens  everywhere.  But  they,  if  they  meet  and 
defeat  a  part  of  our  army,  are  as  proud  as  if  they  had 
routed  us  all,  and  when  defeated  they  pretend  to  have 
been  vanquished  by  us  all. 

'*If  then  we  prefer  to  meet  danger  with  a  light  heart 
but  without  laborious  training,  and  with  a  courage  which 
is  gained  by  habit  and  not  enforced  by  law,  are  we  not 
greatly  the  gainers?  Since  we  do  not  anticipate  the  pain, 
although,  when  the  hour  comes,  we  can  be  as  brave  as 
those  who  never  allow  themselves  to  rest;  and  thus  too 
our  city  is  equally  admirable  in  peace  and  in  war.  For 
we  are  lovers  of  the  beautiful,  yet  simple  in  our  tastes, 
and  we  cultivate  the  mind  without  loss  of  manliness. 
Wealth  we  employ,  not  for  talk  and  ostentation,  but  when 
there  is  a  real  use  for  it.  To  avow  poverty  with  us  is  no 
disgrace;  the  true  disgrace  is  in  doing  nothing  to  avoid  it. 
The  Athenian  citizen  does  not  neglect  the  state  because 


Thucydides  217 

he  takes  care  of  his  own  household;  and  even  those  of  us 
who  are  engaged  in  business  have  a  very  fair  idea  of  poli- 
tics. We  alone  regard  a  man  who  takes  no  interest  in 
public  affairs,  not  as  harmless,  but  as  a  useless  character; 
and  if  few  of  us  are  originators,  we  are  all  sound  judges 
of  policy.  The  great  impediment  to  action  is,  in  our 
opinion,  not  discussion,  but  the  want  of  that  knowledge 
which  is  gained  by  discussion  preparatory  to  action.  For 
we  have  a  peculiar  power  of  thinking  before  we  act  and  of 
acting  too,  whereas  other  men  are  courageous  from  ignor- 
ance, but  hesitate  upon  reflection.  And  they  are  surely 
to  be  esteemed  the  bravest  spirits  who,  having  the  clearest 
sense  of  both  pains  and  pleasures  of  life,  do  not  on  that 
account  shrink  from  danger.  In  doing  good,  again,  we 
are  unlike  others;  we  make  our  friends  by  conferring,  not 
by  receiving  favors.  Now  he  who  confers  a  favor  is  a 
firmer  friend,  because  he  would  fain  by  kindness  keep 
alive  the  memory  of  the  obligation;  but  the  recipient  is 
colder  in  his  feelings,  because  he  knows  that  in  requiting 
another's  generosity  he  will  not  be  winning  gratitude,  but 
only  paying  a  debt.  We  alone  do  good  to  our  neighbors, 
not  on  a  calculation  of  interest,  but  in  the  confidence  of 
freedom,  and  in  a  frank  and  fearless  spirit. 

*'To  sum  up,  I  say  that  Athens  is  the  school  of  Hellas, 
and  that  the  individual  Athenian  in  his  own  person  seems 
to  have  the  power  of  adapting  himself  to  the  most  varied 
forms  of  action  with  the  utmost  versatility  and  grace. 
This  is  no  passing  and  idle  word,  but  truth  and  fact;  and 
the  assertion  is  verified  by  the  position  to  which  these 
qualities  have  raised  the  state.  For  in  the  hour  of  trial 
Athens  alone  among  her  contemporaries  is  superior  to  the 
report  of  her.  No  enemy  who  comes  against  her  is  indig- 
nant at  the  reverses  which  he  sustains  at  the  hands  of  such 
a  city;  no  subject  complains  that  his  masters  are  unworthy 
of  him.  And  we  assuredly  shall  not  be  without  witnesses; 
there  are  mighty  monuments  of  our  power  which  shall 
make  us  the  wonder  of  this  and  succeeding  ages;  we  shall 
not  need  the  praise  of  Homer  nor  of  any  other  panegyrist 


21 8  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

whose  poetry  may  please  for  the  moment,  although  his 
representation  of  the  facts  will  not  bear  the  light  of  day. 
For  we  have  compelled  every  land  and  every  sea  to  open 
a  path  for  our  valor,  and  have  everywhere  planted  eternal 
memorials  of  our  friendship  and  of  our  enmity.  Such  is 
the  city  for  whose  sake  these  men  nobly  fought  and  died; 
they  could  not  bear  the  thought  that  she  might  be  taken 
from  them;  and  every  one  of  us  who  survive  should  gladly 
toil  in  her  behalf. 

*'I  have  dwelt  upon  the  greatness  of  Athens  because  I 
want  to  show  you  that  we  are  contending  for  a  higher 
prize  than  those  who  enjoy  none  of  these  privileges,  and 
to  establish  by  manifest  proof  the  merit  of  these  men 
whom  I  am  now  commemorating.  A  death  such  as  theirs 
has  been  gives  the  true  measure  of  a  man's  worth;  it  may 
be  the  first  revelation  of  his  virtues,  but  at  any  rate  it  is 
their  final  seal.  Even  those  who  come  short  in  other 
ways  may  justly  plead  the  valor  with  which  they  have 
fought  for  their  country.  On  the  battle-field  their  feet 
stood  fast,  and  in  an  instant,  at  the  height  of  their  for- 
tune, they  passed  away  from  the  scene,  not  of  their  fear, 
but  of  their  glory. 

''Wherefore  I  do  not  now  commiserate  the  parents  of 
the  dead  who  stand  here;  I  would  rather  comfort  them. 
You  know  that  your  hfe  has  been  passed  amid  manifold 
vicissitudes;  and  that  they  may  be  deemed  fortunate  who 
have  gained  most  honor,  whether  in  an  honorable  death 
like  theirs,  or  in  an  honorable  sorrow  like  yours,  and 
whose  days  have  been  so  ordered  that  the  term  of  their 
happiness  is  also  the  term  of  their  life.  I  know  how  hard 
it  is  to  make  you  feel  this,  when  the  good  fortune  of 
others  will  too  often  remind  you  of  the  gladness  which 
once  lightened  your  hearts.  And  sorrow  is  felt  at  the 
want  of  those  blessings,  not  which  a  man  never  knew, 
but  which  were  a  part  of  his  life  before  they  were  taken 
from  him.  Some  of  you  are  at  an  age  where  they  may 
hope  to  have  other  children,  and  they  ought  to  bear  their 
sorrow  better;  not  only  will  the  children  who  may  here- 


Thucydides  2 1 9 

after  be  bom  make  them  forget  their  own  lost  ones,  but 
the  city  will  be  doubly  a  gainer.  She  will  not  be  left 
desolate,  and  she  will  be  safer.  For  a  man's  counsel  can- 
not have  equal  weight  or  worth,  when  he  alone  has  no 
children  to  risk  in  the  general  danger.  To  those  of  you 
who  have  passed  their  prime  I  say:  'Congratulate  your- 
selves that  you  have  been  happy  the  greater  part  of  your 
days ;  remember  that  your  life  of  sorrow  will  not  last  long, 
and  be  comforted  by  the  glory  of  those  who  are  gone. 
For  the  love  of  honor  alone  is  always  young,  and  not 
riches,  as  some  say,  but  honor  is  the  delight  of  men  when 
they  are  old  and  useless.* 

**To  you  who  are  the  sons  and  brothers  of  the  departed, 
I  see  that  the  struggle  to  emulate  them  will  be  an  arduous 
one.  For  all  men  praise  the  dead,  and  however  preemi- 
nent your  virtue  may  be,  hardly  will  you  be  thought,  I 
dare  not  say  to  equal,  but  even  to  approach  them.  The 
living  have  their  rivals  and  detractors,  but  when  a  man  is 
out  of  the  way,  the  honor  and  good  will  which  he  receives 
is  unalloyed.  And  if  I  am  to  speak  of  womanly  virtues 
to  those  of  you  who  will  henceforth  be  widows,  let  me 
sum  them  up  in  one  short  admonition.  To  a  woman  not 
to  show  more  weakness  than  is  natural  to  her  sex  is  great 
glory,  and  not  to  be  talked  about,  for  good  or  evil,  among 
men. 

*'I  have  paid  the  required  tribute,  in  obedience  to  the 
law,  making  use  of  such  fitting  words  as  I  had.  The 
tribute  of  deeds  has  been  paid  in  part,  for  the  dead  have 
been  honorably  interred,  and  it  remains  only  that  the  chil- 
dren should  be  maintained  at  the  public  charge  until  they 
are  grown  up;  this  is  the  soHd  prize  with  which,  as  with 
a  garland,  Athens  crowns  her  sons  living  and  dead,  after  a 
struggle  like  theirs.  For  where  the  rewards  of  virtue  are 
the  greatest,  there  the  noblest  citizens  are  enlisted  in  the 
service  of  the  state.  And  now,  when  you  have  duly 
lamented  every  one  his  own  dead,  you  may  depart." 


220  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  translation  of  Thucydides  by  Dr.  Jowett  is  very  graceful 
and  readable,  giving  hardly  a  hint  of  the  ruggedness  and  com- 
plexity of  the  Greek  sentences.  The  British  edition  of  this  work 
contains  copious  notes  and  valuable  essays.  The  translation  by 
Dale  in  the  Bohn  Classical  Library,  follows  the  original  much 
more  closely.  In  Grote's  great  history  the  chapters  on  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  war  are  largely  free  translation  of  Thucydides,  who  is 
indeed  on  most  points  the  sole  or  original  authority  for  that 
period.  The  enthusiastic  remarks  on  Thucydides  by  a  fellow- 
historian,  Lord  Macaulay,  in  his  "Letters,"  are  worthy  of 
attention. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  PLATONIC  SOCRATES 

An  Apostle  of  Righteousness. 

The  most  familiar,  the  homeHest,  the  most  heroic  of 
Greek  figures,  Socrates  still  eludes  our  eager  gaze.  He 
left  no  written  word  of  his  own.  Some  of  his  external 
traits  we  have  glimpsed  at,  through  the  eyes  of  hostile 
criticism,  or  at  least  of  unscrupulous  ridicule.  Xenophon 
has  left  a  volume  of  ** Recollections,*'  apparently  faithful 
reports  of  oral  discussions  by  one  who  did  not  adequately 
grasp  their  higher  purpose.  In  Plato,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  real  Socrates  is  freely  idealized,  and  is  even  made  to 
discourse,  with  learning  and  eloquence,  on  the  very  sub- 
jects which  Xenophon  tells  us  he  conscientiously  avoided 
— as,  theology,  the  origin  of  the  universe,  etc.  Yet, 
upon  the  whole,  it  is  this  Platonic  Socrates  that  has  im- 
pressed itself  upon  the  imagination  of  mankind.  That  it 
is  at  least  based  upon  vivid  and  loving  memories  of  the 
master  cannot  be  doubted.  The  dialectic  skill,  the  merci- 
less probing  of  pretence  and  ignorance,  the  genial  humor 
and  homely  illustration,  are  equally  clear  in  Plato  and 
Xenophon.  Many  a  page  of  the  former  may  be  as  faith- 
ful a  transcript  from  a  real  conversation  as  any  in  the 
latter.  To  take  one  of  the  simplest  of  all,  in  the  Platonic 
''Lysis'*  Socrates  discourses  thus  with  a  beautiful  boy  in 
the  gymnasium: — 

221 


222  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Socrates 
Lysis,  I  suppose  your  father  and  mother  love  you  very 
dearly. 

Lysis 
Very  dearly. 

Socrates 
They  would  wish  you,  then,  to  be  as  happy  as  possible. 

Lysis 
Of  course. 

Socrates 
Do  you  think  a  man  happy  if  he  is  a  slave,  and  cannot 
do  what  he  wants? 

Lysis 
No,  that  indeed  I  don't. 

Socrates 
Well,  if  your  father  and  mother  love  you,  and  wish 
you  to  become  happy,  it  is  clear  that  they  try  in  every 
way  to  make  you  happy. 

Lysis 
To  be  sure  they  do. 

Socrates 
They  allow  you  then,  I  suppose  to  do  what  you  wish, 
and  never  scold  you,  or  hinder  you  from  doing  what  you 
want  to  do. 

Lysis 
Yes,  but  they  do  though,   Socrates,   and  pretty  fre- 
quently too. 

Socrates 
How?     They  wish  you  to  be  happy,  and  yet  hinder 
you  from  doing  what  you  want !     But  tell  me  this :  if  you 
wanted  to  ride  on  one  of  your  father's  chariots,  and  take 
the  reins  during  a  race,  would  they  not  allow  you? 


The  Platonic  Socrates  223 

Lysis 
No,  most  assuredly  they  would  not. 

Socrates 
Whom  would  they  then? 

Lysis 
There  is  a  charioteer  paid  by  my  father. 

Socrates 

Paid!  Do  they  allow  a  paid  servant  in  preference  to 
you  to  do  what  he  pleases  with  the  horses,  and  what  is 
more,  give  him  money  for  so  doing? 

Lysis 
No  doubt  about  it,  Socrates. 

Socrates 

Well,  but  your  pair  of  mules  I  am  sure  they  let  you 
drive,  and  even  if  you  wished  to  take  the  whip,  and  whip 
them,  I  am  sure  they  would  allow  you. 

Lysis 

Allow  me,  would  they? 

Socrates 

Would  they  not?  Is  there  no  one  allowed  to  whip 
them? 

Lysis 
Of  course  there  is;  the  mule  driver. 

Socrates 
Is  he  a  slave  or  free? 

Lysis 
A  slave 


224  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Socrates 
A  slave  then,  it  appears,  they  think  of  more  account 
than  you,  their  son,  and  they  allow  him  to  do  what  he 
pleases,  while  you  they  hinder.  But  come  now,  when  you 
go  home  to  your  mother,  she,  I  am  sure,  lets  you  do  what 
you  please — that  you  may  be  as  happy  as  she  can  make 
you — either  with  her  wool  or  her  loom,  when  she  is  spin- 
ning. It  cannot  be  possible  that  she  hinders  you  from 
touching  her  shuttle  or  her  comb,  or  any  other  of  her 
spinning  implements. 

Lysis    (Laughing.) 
I  can  assure  you,  Socrates,  she  not  only  hinders  me, 
but  would  get  me  a  good  beating  if  I  did  touch  them. 

Socrates 
Beating!     You  haven't  done  your  father  or  mother 
any  wrong  have  you.? 

Lysis 
Not  L 

Socrates 
Whatever  is  the  reason,  then,  that  they  hinder  you  in 
this  shocking  manner  from  being  happy,  and  doing  what 
you  like;  and  keep  you  all  the  day  long  in  bondage  to 
some  one  or  other, — and,  in  a  word,  doing  hardly  any- 
thing at  all  you  want  to  do?  So  that  it  seems  you  get  no 
good  whatever  from  your  fortune,  large  as  it  is,  but  all 
have  control  over  it  rather  than  you;  nor  again  from  that 
beautiful  person  of  yours;  for  it  too  is  under  the  care  and 
charge  of  other  people,  while  you,  poor  Lysis,  have  con- 
trol over  nothing  at  all,  nor  do  a  single  thing  which  you 
wish. 

In  Xenophon  this  chat  would  close  at  some  such  point 
as  this,  leaving  the  sting  of  dissatisfaction  in  the  youth's 
mind  until  he  craves  the  master's  probe  again.     In  Plato 


The  Platonic  Socrates  225 

it  is  but  an  introduction  to  a  labored  though  indecisive 
discussion  on  the  origin  and  definition  of  Love  or  Affec- 
tion. 

The  chief  account  of  Socrates'  call  to  his  life- mission, 
and  of  the  spirit  in  which  he  followed  it,  is  found  in  the 
"Apology,"  or  defense  before  his  judges.  This  is  strictly 
a  dialogue,  like  all  Plato's  works,  because  at  one  point 
the  accuser,  in  accordance  with  Athenian  law,  has  to 
answer  such  questions  as  Socrates  puts  to  him.  In  the 
main,  however,  the  ** Apology"  is  an  unbroken  and  elo- 
quent appeal :  rather  to  the  judgment  of  aftertime  than  to 
the  actual  jury. 

The  Apology 

I  have  to  defend  myself,  Athenians,  first  against  the 
old  false  charges  of  my  old  accusers,  and  then  against  the 
later  ones  of  my  present  accusers.  For  many  men  have 
been  accusing  me  to  you,  and  for  very  many  years,  who 
have  not  uttered  a  word  of  truth;  they  got  hold  of  most 
of  you  when  you  were  children,  and  they  have  been  most 
persistent  in  accusing  me  with  lies,  and  in  trying  to  per- 
suade you  that  there  is  one  Socrates,  a  wise  man,  who 
speculates  about  the  heavens,  and  who  examines  into  all 
things  that  are  below  the  earth,  and  who  can  *'Make  the 
worse  appear  the  better  reason."  And  the  most  un- 
reasonable thing  of  all  is  that  commonly  I  do  not  even 
know  their  names ;  I  cannot  tell  you  who  they  are,  except 
in  the  case  of  the  comic  poets. 

Let  us  begin  again,  then,  and  see  what  is  the  charge 
which  has  given  rise  to  the  prejudice  against  me,  which  is 
what  Meletus  relied  on  when  he  drew  his  indictment. 
What  is  the  calumny  which  my  enemies  have  been  spread- 
ing against  me.  I  must  assume  that  they  are  formally 
accusing  me,  and  read  their  indictment.  It  would  run 
somewhat  in  this  fashion.  ** Socrates  is  an  evil-doer,  who 
meddles  with  inquiries  into  things  beneath  the  earth,  and 


226  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

in  heaven,  and  who  'makes  the  worse  appear  the  better 
reason/  and  who  teaches  others  these  same  things." 
That  is  what  they  say;  and  in  the  comedy  of  Aristophanes 
you  'yourselves  saw  a  man  called  Socrates  swinging 
around  in  a  basket,  and  saying  that  he  walked  the  air,  and 
talking  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  about  matters  of  which 
I  understand  nothing,  either  more  or  less. 

Perhaps  some  of  you  may  reply:  *'But  Socrates,  what 
is  this  pursuit  of  yours?  Whence  come  these  calumnies 
against  you?  You  must  have  been  engaged  in  some  pur- 
suit out  of  the  common.  All  these  stories  and  reports  of 
you  would  never  have  gone  about  if  you  had  not  been  in 
some  way  different  from  other  men.  So  tell  us  what 
your  pursuits  are  that  we  may  not  give  our  verdict  in  the 
dark." 

I  think  that  that  is  a  fair  question,  and  I  will  try  to 
explain  to  you  what  it  is  that  has  raised  these  calumnies 
against  me,  and  given  me  this  name.  Listen,  then;  some 
of  you  will  think  that  I  am  jesting;  but  I  assure  you  that 
I  will  tell  you  the  whole  truth.  I  have  gained  this  name, 
Athenians,  simply  by  reason  of  a  certain  wisdom.  Do 
not  interrupt  me,  Athenians,  even  if  you  think  that  I  am 
speaking  arrogantly.  What  I  am  going  to  say  is  not  my 
own;  I  will  tell  you  who  says  it,  and  he  is  worthy  your 
credit.  I  will  bring  the  god  of  Delphi  to  be  the  witness 
of  the  fact  of  my  wisdom,  and  of  its  nature. 

You  remember  Chaerephon.  From  youth  upwards  he 
was  my  comrade.  You  remember  too  Chaerephon 's  char- 
acter; how  vehement  he  was  in  carrying  through  whatever 
he  took  in  hand.  Once  he  went  to  Delphi  and  ventured 
to  put  this  question  to  the  oracle, — I  entreat  you  again, 
my  friends,  not  to  cry  out, — he  asked  if  there  was  any 
man  who  was  wiser  than  I,  and  the  priestess  answered 
that  there  was  no  man. 

When  I  heard  of  the  oracle,  I  began  to  reflect :  '*  What 
can  the  god  mean  by  this  dark  saying?  I  know  very  well 
that  I  am  not  wise,  even  in  the  smallest  degree.  Then 
what  can  he  mean  by  saying  that  I  am  the  wisest  of  men? 


The  Platonic  Socrates  2127 

It  cannot  be  that  he  is  speaking  falsely,  for  he  is  a  god 
and  cannot  lie."  And  for  a  long  time  I  was  at  a  loss  to 
understand  his  meaning;  then,  very  reluctantly,  I  turned 
to  seek  for  it  in  this  manner.  I  went  to  a  man  who  was 
reputed  to  be  wise,  thinking  that  there,  if  anywhere,  I 
should  prove  the  answer  wrong,  and  meaning  to  point  out 
to  the  oracle  its  mistake,  and  to  say,  **you  said  that  I  was 
the  wisest  of  men,  but  this  man  is  wiser  than  I."  So  I 
examined  this  man — I  need  not  tell  you  his  name,  he  was 
a  poHtician — but  this  was  the  result,  Athenians.  When 
I  came  to  converse  with  him,  I  saw  that  though  a  great 
many  persons,  and  most  of  all  himself,  thought  that  he 
was  wise,  yet  he  was  not  wise.  And  then  I  tried  to  prove 
to  him  that  he  was  not  wise,  though  he  fancied  that  he 
was;  and  by  so  doing,  I  made  him,  and  many  of  the 
bystanders,  my  enemies.  So  when  I  went  away  I  thought 
to  myself,  I  am  wiser  than  this  man:  neither  of  us  prob- 
ably knows  anything  that  is  really  good,  but  he  thinks 
that  he  has  knowledge,  when  he  has  not.  While  I,  having 
no  knowledge,  do  not  think  that  I  have.  I  seem  at  any 
rate  to  be  a  little  wiser  than  he  on  this  point;  I  do  not 
think  that  I  know  what  I  do  not  know.  Next  I  went  to 
another  man  who  was  reputed  to  be  still  wiser  than  the 
last,  with  exactly  the  same  result.  And  there  again,  I 
made  him,  and  many  other  men,  my  enemies. 

Then  I  went  on  to  one  man  after  another,  seeing  that 
I  was  making  enemies  every  day,  which  caused  me  much 
unhappiness  and  anxiety:  since  I  still  thought  I  must  set 
the  god's  command  above  everything.  So  I  had  to  go  to 
every  man  who  seemed  to  possess  any  knowledge,  and 
search  for  the  meaning  of  the  oracle:  and  Athenians,  I 
must  tell  you  the  truth;  verily,  by  the  dog  of  Egypt,*  this 
was  the  result  of  the  search  which  I  made  at  the  god's 
bidding.  I  found  that  the  men  whose  reputations  for 
wisdom  stood  the  highest  were  nearly  always  the  most 
lacking  in  it;  while  others,  who  were  looked  down  upon 
as  common  people,  were  much  better  fitted  to  learn. 

iThe  dogheaded  god  Anubis.  Socrates  has  a  humorous  fondness  for 
strange  oaths. 


228  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Now,  I  must  describe  to  you  the  wanderings  which  I 
undertook,  Hke  a  series  of  Herculean  labors,  to  make  full 
proof  of  the  oracle.  After  the  politicians,  I  went  to  the 
poets,  tragic,  dithyrambic,  ^  and  others,  thinking  that  there 
I  should  find  myself  manifestly  more  ignorant  than  they. 
So  I  took  up  the  poems,  on  which  I  thought  that  they  had 
spent  most  pains,  and  asked  them  what  they  meant, — 
hoping  at  the  same  time  to  learn  something  from  them.  I 
am  ashamed  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  friends,  but  I  must 
say  it.  Almost  any  one  of  the  bystanders  could  have 
talked  about  the  works  of  those  poets  better  than  the 
poets  themselves.  So  I  soon  found  that  it  is  not  by  wis- 
dom that  the  poets  create  their  works,  but  by  a  certain 
natural  power  and  inspiration,  like  soothsayers  and  proph- 
ets, who  say  many  fine  things,  but  understand  nothing  of 
what  they  say.  The  poets  seemed  to  me  to  be  in  a  simi- 
lar case.  And  at  the  same  time,  I  perceived  that,  because 
of  their  poetry,  they  thought  that  they  were  the  wisest  of 
men  in  other  matters,  in  which  they  were  not.  So  I  went 
away  again,  thinking  that  I  had  the  same  advantage  over 
the  poets  that  I  had  over  the  politicians. 

Finally  I  went  to  the  artisans,  for  I  knew  very  well 
that  I  possessed  no  knowledge  at  all,  worth  speaking  of, 
and  I  was  sure  that  I  should  find  that  they  knew  many 
fine  things.  And  in  that  I  was  not  mistaken.  They  knew 
what  I  did  not  know,  and  so  far  they  were  wiser  than  I. 
But,  Athenians,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  skilled  artisans 
made  the  same  mistake  as  the  poets.  Each  of  them 
believed  himself  to  be  extremely  wise  in  matters  of  great 
importance,  because  he  was  skilful  in  his  own  art;  and 
this  mistake  of  theirs  threw  their  real  wisdom  into  the 
shade.  So  I  asked  myself,  on  behalf  of  the  oracle, 
whether  I  would  choose  to  remain  as  I  was,  without  either 
their  wisdom  or  their  ignorance,  or  to  possess  both,  as 
they  did.  And  I  made  answer  to  myself  that  it  was  better 
to  remain  as  I  was. 

By  reason  of  this  examination,  Athenians,  I  have  made 

i  The  dithyramb  is  the  special  choral  song  in  Bacchus'  honor. 


The  rlatonic  Socrates  229 

myself  many  enemies  of  a  very  fierce  and  bitter  kind,  who 
have  spread  abroad  a  great  many  calumnies  about  me, 
and  people  say  that  I  am  *'a  wise  man.'*  For  the  by- 
standers always  think  that  I  am  wise  myself  in  any  matter 
wherein  I  convict  another  man  of  ignorance.  But,  my 
friends,  I  believe  that  only  the  god  is  really  wise,  and  that 
by  this  oracle  he  meant  that  men's  wisdom  is  worth  little 
or  nothing.  I  do  not  think  that  he  meant  that  Socrates 
was  wise.  He  only  made  use  of  my  name,  and  took  me 
as  an  example,  as  though  he  would  say  to  men:  '*He 
among  you  is  the  wisest,  who,  like  Socrates,  knows  that 
his  wisdom  is  worth  nothing  at  all." 

And  so  I  still  go  about  testing  and  examining  every 
man  whom  I  think  wise,  whether  he  be  a  citizen  or  a 
stranger,  as  the  god  has  commanded  me ;  and  whenever  I 
find  that  he  is  not  wise,  I  point  out  to  him  on  the  part 
of  the  god  that  he  is  not  wise.  And  I  am  so  busy  in  this 
pursuit  that  I  have  never  had  leisure  to  take  any  part 
worth  mentioning  in  public  matters,  nor  to  look  after  my 
private  affairs.  I  am  in  very  great  poverty  by  reason  of 
my  service  to  the  god. 

Perhaps  some  one  will  say:  '*Are  you  not  ashamed, 
Socrates,  of  following  pursuits  which  are  very  Ukely  now 
to  cause  your  death?"  I  should  answer  him  with  justice, 
and  say:  **My  friend,  if  you  think  that  a  man  of  any 
worth  at  all  ought  to  reckon  the  chances  of  life  and  death 
when  he  acts,  or  that  he  ought  to  think  of  anything  but 
whether  he  acts  rightly  or  wrongly,  and  as  a  good  or  bad 
man  would  act,  you  are  grievously  mistaken.  According 
to  you,  the  demigods  who  died  at  Troy  would  be  of  no 
great  worth,  and  among  them  the  son  of  Thetis,^  who 
thought  nothing  of  danger  when  the  alternative  was  dis- 
grace. For  when  his  mother,  a  goddess,  addressed  him, 
as  he  was  burning  to  slay  Hector,  I  suppose  in  this  fash- 
ion: 'My  son,  if  thou  avengest  the  death  of  thy  comrade 
Patroclus,  and  slayest  Hector,  thou  wilt  die  thyself,  for 
**Fate  awaits  thee  straightway  after  Hector's  death,"  '  he 

1  Achilles. 


230  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

heard  what  she  said,  but  scorned  danger  and  death.  He 
feared  much  more  to  Hve  a  coward  and  not  to  avenge  his 
friend.  'Let  me  punish  the  evildoer  and  straightway  die,' 
he  said,  'that  I  may  not  remain  here  by  the  beaked  ships, 
a  scorn  of  men,  encumbering  the  earth.'  Do  you  sup- 
pose that  he  ever  thought  of  danger  or  death?  For  this, 
Athenians,  I  beheve  to  be  the  truth.  Whatever  a  man's 
post  is,  whether  he  has  been  placed  in  it  of  his  own  will, 
or  has  been  placed  in  it  by  his  commander,  there  it  is  his 
duty  to  remain  and  face  the  danger,  without  thinking  of 
death,  or  of  any  other  thing,  except  dishonor." 

For  to  fear  death,  my  friends,  is  only  to  think  our- 
selves wise,  without  being  wise:  for  it  is  to  think  that  we 
know  what  we  do  not  know.  For  anything  that  men  can 
tell,  death  may  be  the  greatest  good  that  can  happen  to 
them,  but  they  fear  it  as  if  they  knew  quite  well  that  it 
was  the  greatest  of  evils.  And  what  is  this  but  that 
shameful  ignorance  of  thinking  we  know  what  we  do  not 
know?  In  this  matter  too,  my  friends,  perhaps  I  am 
different  from  the  mass  of  mankind;  and  if  I  were  to  claim 
to  be  at  all  wiser  than  others',  it  would  be  because  I  do 
not  think  that  I  have  any  clear  knowledge  about  the  other 
world,  when,  in  fact,  I  have  none.  But  I  do  know  very 
well  that  it  is  evil  and  base  to  do  wrong,  and  to  disobey 
my  superior,  whether  he  be  man  or  god.  And  I  will  never 
do  what  I  know  to  be  evil,  and  shrink  in  fear  from  what, 
for  all  that  I  can  tell,  may  be  a  good. 

If  you  were  therefore  to  say  to  me,  ''Socrates,  this 
time  we  will  not  listen  to  Anytus;  we  will  let  you  go;  but 
on  this  condition,  that  you  will  cease  from  carrying  on 
this  search  of  yours,  and  from  philosophy;  if  you  are 
found  following  these  pursuits  again  you  shall  die."  I 
say,  if  you  offered  to  let  me  go  on  those  terms,  I  should 
reply: — "Athenians,  I  hold  you  in  the  highest  regard  and 
love,  but  I  will  obey  the  god  rather  than  you ;  and  as  long 
as  I  have  breath  and  strength  I  will  not  cease  from  phi- 
losophy, and  from  exhorting  you,  and  declaring  the  truth 
to  every  one  of  you  whom  I  meet,  saying,  as  I  am  wont. 


The  Platonic  Socrates  231 

*My  excellent  friend,  you  who  are  a  citizen  of  Athens,  a 
city  which  is  very  great  and  very  famous  for  wisdom  and 
power  of  mind ;  are  you  not  ashamed  of  caring  so  much 
for  the  making  of  money,  and  for  reputation,  and  for 
honor?  Will  you  not  think  and  care  about  wisdom,  and 
truth,  and  the  perfection  of  your  soul?'  "  And  if  he  dis- 
putes my  words,  and  says  that  he  does  care  about  these 
things,  I  shall  not  forthwith  release  him  and  go  away;  I 
shall  question  him  and  cross-examine  him  and  test  him, 
and  if  I  think  that  he  has  not  virtue,  though  he  says  that 
he  has,  I  shall  reproach  him  for  setting  the  lower  value 
on  the  higher  things,  and  a  higher  value  on  those  that  are 
of  less  account.  This  I  shall  do  to  every  one  whom  I 
meet,  young  or  old,  citizen  or  stranger;  but  more  espe- 
cially to  the  citizens,  for  they  are  more  nearly  akin  to  me. 
For  I  know  well,  the  god  has  commanded  me  to  do  so. 

Socrates  was  condemned  on  the  charge  of  having  cor- 
rupted the  young,  neglected  the  gods  of  the  city,  and 
introduced  strange  divinities.  The  last  charge  may  have 
been  helped  out  by  the  absurd  worship  of  the  Clouds, 
Vortex,  etc.,  in  the  comedy  of  Aristophanes,  but  was  no 
doubt  chiefly  based  on  Socrates'  own  allusions  to  the 
Daimonion,  or  divine  voice  of  warning,  in  his  own  breast. 
This  companion  was  very  like  a  Christian  conscience. 

The  account  of  Socrates'  death  occurs  in  the 
**Phaedo."  The  day  has  been  spent  in  a  discussion  with 
his  friends,  on  Immortality,  much  of  which  is  so  abstruse 
and  learned  as  to  be  clearly  Plato's  utterance,  and  his 
alone;  though  the  real  Socrates  may  well  have  spent  his 
last  hours  in  some  such  fashion.  Even  the  final  incidents 
are,  no  doubt,  much  modified  from  the  reality,  since  he 
who  dies  by  hemlock  is  not  merely  paralyzed,  but  plunged 
into  violent  convulsions.  But  that  is  only  saying  that 
this  heroic  death  scene  is  literature,  not  a  mere  report  of 


232  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

facts.     The  spirit  is  no  less  Socratic,  though  the  artist's 
hand  be  Plato's. 

The  long  dialogue  closes  with  a  large  constructive 
sketch  of  the  universe,  with  the  location  of  what  we  would 
call  Heaven,  Hell,  and  Purgatory.  After  mentioning  the 
final  doom  of  the  incurably  wicked,  and  the  purifying 
pains  of  penitent  sinners,  Socrates  continues: 

Translation 

Those  also  who  are  remarkable  for  having  led  holy 
lives  are  released  from  this  earthly  prison,  and  go  to  their 
pure  home  which  is  above,  and  dwell  in  the  purer  earth; 
and  those  who  have  duly  purified  themselves  with  phi- 
losophy live  henceforth  altogether  without  the  body,  in 
mansions  fairer  far  than  these,  which  may  not  be  described, 
and  of  which  the  time  would  fail  me  to  tell. 

I  do  not  mean  to  affirm  that  the  description  which  I 
have  given  of  the  soul  and  her  mansions  is  exactly  true — 
a  man  of  sense  ought  hardly  to  say  that.  But  I  do  say 
that,  inasmuch  as  the  soul  is  said  to  be  immortal,  he  may 
venture  to  think,  not  improperly  or  unworthily,  that  some- 
thing of  the  kind  is  true.  The  venture  is  a  glorious  one, 
and  he  ought  to  comfort  himself  with  words  like  these, 
which  is  the  reason  why  I  lengthen  out  this  tale.  Where- 
fore, I  say,  let  a  man  be  of  good  cheer  about  his  soul,  who 
has  cast  away  the  pleasures  and  ornaments  of  the  body  as 
alien  to  him,  and  rather  hurtful  in  their  effects,  and  has 
followed  after  the  pleasures  of  knowledge  in  this  life;  who 
has  adorned  the  soul  in  her  own  proper  jewels,  which  are 
temperance  and  justice,  and  courage,  and  nobility,  and 
truth — in  these  arrayed,  she  is  ready  to  go  on  her  journey 
to  the  world  below,  when  her  time  comes.  You,  and  all 
other  men,  will  depart  at  some  time  or  other.  Me  already, 
as  the  tragic  poet  says,  the  voice  of  fate  calls.  Soon  I 
must  drink  the  poison,  and  I  think  that  I  had  better  repair 
to  the  bath  first,  in  order  that  the  women  may  not  have 
the  trouble  of  washing  my  body  after  I  am  dead. 


The  Platonic  Socrates  233 

When  he  had  done  speaking,  Crito  said:  And  have 
you  any  commands  for  us,  Socrates, — anything  to  say 
about  your  children,  or  any  other  matter  in  which  we  can 
serve  you? 

Nothing  in  particular,  he  said;  only,  as  I  have  always 
told  you,  I  would  have  you  look  to  yourselves;  that  is  a 
service  which  you  can  always  be  doing  to  me  and  mine  as 
well  as  to  yourselves. 

We  will  do  our  best,  said  Crito.  But  in  what  way 
would  you  have  us  bury  you? 

In  any  way  that  you  like;  only  you  must  get  hold  of 
me,  and  take  care  that  I  do  not  walk  away  from  you. 
Then  he  turned  to  us,  and  added  with  a  smile:  I  cannot 
make  Crito  believe  that  I  am  the  same  Socrates  who  has 
been  talking  and  conducting  the  argument ;  he  fancies  that 
I  am  the  other  Socrates  whom  he  will  soon  see,  a  dead 
body^and  he  asks — How  shall  he  bury  me?  And  though 
I  have  spoken  many  words  in  the  endeavor  to  show  that 
when  I  have  drunk  the  poison  I  shall  leave  you  and  go  to 
the  joys  of  the  blessed — these  words  of  mine,  with  which 
I  comforted  you  and  myself,  have  had,  as  I  perceive,  no 
effect  upon  Crito.  And  therefore  I  want  you  to  be  surety 
for  me  now,  as  he  was  surety  for  me  at  the  trial;  but  let 
the  promise  be  of  another  sort;  for  he  was  my  surety  to 
the  judges  that  I  would  remain,  but  you  must  be  my  surety 
to  him  that  I  shall  not  remain,  but  go  away  and  depart; 
and  then  he  will  suffer  less  at  my  death,  and  not  be 
grieved  when  he  sees  my  body  being  burned  or  buried. 
I  would  not  have  him  sorrow  at  my  hard  lot,  or  say  at  the 
burial.  Thus  we  lay  out  Socrates,  or,  Thus  we  follow  him 
to  the  grave  or  bury  him,  for  false  words  are  not  only  evil 
in  themselves,  but  they  infect  the  soul  with  evil.  Be  of 
good  cheer,  then,  my  dear  Crito,  and  say  that  you  are 
burying  my  body  only,  and  do  with  that  as  is  usual,  and 
as  you  think  best. 

When  he  had  spoken  these  words  he  arose  and  went 
into  the  bath  chamber  with  Crito,  who  bade  us  wait;  and 
we  waited,  talking  and  thinking  of  the  subject  of  discourse, 


234  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

and  also  of  the  greatness  of  our  sorrow;  he  was  Hke  a 
father  of  whom  we  were  being  bereaved,  and  we  were 
about  to  pass  the  rest  of  our  Hves  as  orphans.  When  he 
had  taken  the  bath  his  children  were  brought  to  him — (he 
had  two  young  sons  and  an  elder  one) ;  and  the  women  of 
his  family  also  came,  and  he  talked  to  them  and  gave  them 
a  few  directions  in  the  presence  of  Crito;  and  he  then 
dismissed  them  and  returned  to  us. 

Now  the  hour  of  sunset  was  near,  for  a  good  deal  of 
time  had  passed  while  he  was  within.  When  he  came  out 
he  sat  down  with  us  again  after  his  bath;  but  not  much 
was  said.  Soon  the  jailer  entered  and  stood  by  him,  say- 
ing: '*To  you,  Socrates,  whom  I  know  to  be  the  noblest 
and  gentlest  and  best  of  all  who  ever  came  to  this  place, 
I  will  not  impute  the  angry  feelings  of  other  men,  who 
rage  and  swear  at  me,  when,  in  obedience  to  the  authori- 
ties, I  bid  them  drink  the  poison — indeed  I  am  sure  that 
you  will  not  be  angry  with  me;  for  others,  as  you  are 
aware,  and  not  I,  are  the  guilty  cause.  And  so  fare  you 
well,  and  try  to  bear  lightly  what  needs  must  be;  you  know 
my  errand."  Then  bursting  into  tears  he  turned  away 
and  went  out. 

Socrates  looked  at  him  and  said:  **I  return  your 
good  wishes,  and  will  do  as  you  bid."  Then,  turning  to 
us,  he  said,  **How  charming  the  man  is:  since  I  have 
been  in  prison  he  has  always  been  coming  to  see  me,  and 
now  see  how  generously  he  sorrows  for  me.  But  we  must 
do  as  he  says,  Crito;  let  the  cup  be  brought,  if  the  poison 
is  prepared;  if  not  let  the  attendant  prepare  some." 

''Yet,"  said  Crito,  *'the  sun  is  still  upon  the  hilltops, 
and  many  a  one  has  taken  the  draught  late,  and  after  the 
announcement  has  been  made  to  him,  has  eaten  and  drunk, 
and  indulged  in  sensual  delights;  do  not  hasten,  then, 
there  is  still  time." 

Socrates  said:  *'Yes,  Crito,  and  they  of  whom  you 
speak  are  right  in  doing  this,  for  they  think  that  they  will 
gain  by  the  delay;  but  I  am  right  in  not  doing  thus,  for 
I  do  not  think  that  I  should  gain  anything  by  drinking  the 


The  Platonic  Socrates  235 

poison  a  little  later;  I  should  be  sparing  and  saving  a  life 
which  is  already  gone ;  I  could  only  laugh  at  myself  for 
this.     Please  then  do  as  I  say,  and  not  refuse  me.'* 

Crito,  when  he  heard  this,  made  a  sign  to  the  servant; 
and  the  servant  went  in,  and  remained  for  some  time,  and 
then  returned  with  the  jailer,  carrying  the  cup  of  poison. 
Socrates  said:  **You,  my  good  friend,  who  are  experi- 
enced in  these  matters,  shall  give  me  directions  how  I 
am  to  proceed."  The  man  answered:  ''You  have  only 
to  walk  about  until  your  legs  are  heavy,  and  then  to  lie 
down,  and  the  poison  will  act."  At  the  same  time  he 
handed  the  cup  to  Socrates,  who  in  the  easiest  and  gentlest 
manner,  without  the  least  fear  or  change  of  color  or  fea- 
ture, looking  at  the  man  with  all  his  eyes,  as  his  manner 
was,  took  the  cup  and  said:  ''What  do  you  say  about 
making  a  libation  out  of  this  cup  to  any  god?  May  I,  or 
not?"  The  man  answered :  "We  only  prepare,  Socrates, 
just  so  much  as  we  deem  enough."  "I  understand,"  he 
said;  "yet  I  may  and  must  pray  to  the  gods  to  prosper 
my  journey  from  this  to  that  other  world — may  this  then, 
which  is  my  prayer,  be  granted  to  me."  Then  holding 
the  cup  to  his  lips,  quite  readily  and  cheerfully  he  drank 
off  the  poison.  And  hitherto  most  of  us  had  been  able 
to  control  our  sorrow;  but  when  we  saw  him  drinking, 
and  saw  too  that  he  had  finished  the  draught,  we  could 
no  longer  forbear,  and  in  spite  of  myself  my  own  tears 
were  flowing  fast;  so  that  I  covered  my  face  and  wept 
over  myself,  for  certainly  I  was  not  weeping  over  him, 
but  at  the  thought  of  my  own  calamity  in  having  lost 
such  a  companion.  Nor  was  I  the  first,  for  Crito,  when 
he  found  himself  unable  to  restrain  his  tears,  had  got 
up  and  moved  away,  and  I  followed;  and  at  that  moment 
Apollodorus,  who  had  been  weeping  all  the  time,  broke  out 
into  a  loud  cry  which  made  cowards  of  us  all.  Socrates 
alone  retained  his  calmness:  "What  is  this  strange  out- 
cry?" he  said.  "I  sent  the  women  away  mainly  that  they 
might  not  offend  in  this  way,  for  I  have  heard  that  a  man 
should  die  in  peace.     Be  quiet  then,  and  have  patience." 


236  Ideals  in  Greek' Literature 

When  we  heard  that,  we  were  ashamed  and  refrained 
our  tears;  and  he  walked  about  until,  as  he  said,  his  legs 
began  to  fail,  and  then  he  lay  on  his  back,  according  to 
the  directions,  and  the  man  who  gave  him  the  poison  now 
and  then  looked  at  his  feet  and  legs,  and  after  a  time  he 
pressed  his  foot  hard,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  feel ;  and 
he  said  no ;  and  then  his  leg,  and  so  upwards  and  upwards, 
and  showed  us  that  he  was  cold  and  stiff.  And  he  felt 
them  himself,  and  said:  **When  the  poison  reaches  the 
heart,  that  will  be  the  end."  He  was  beginning  to  grow 
cold  about  the  groin  when  he  uncovered  his  face,  for  he 
had  covered  himself  up,  and  said  (they  were  his  last  words) 
— he  said:  '*Crito,  I  owe  a  cock  to  Asclepius;  will  you 
remember  to  pay  the  debt.?"  ''The  debt  shall  be  paid," 
said  Crito;  "is  there  anything  else?"  There  was  no 
answer  to  this  question;  but  in  a  minute  or  two  a  move- 
ment was  heard,  and  the  attendant  uncovered  him;  his 
eyes  were  set,  and  Crito  closed  his  eyes  and  mouth. 

Such  was  the  end,  Echecrates,  of  our  friend,  whom  I 
may  truly  call  the  wisest,  and  justest,  and  best  of  all  the 
men  whom  I  have  ever  known. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Jowett's  translation  of  all  Plato's  works,  in  five  stately  vol- 
umes, will  long  remain  without  a  rival  in  England.  It  contains 
also  valuable  introductions,  analyses,  etc.  Grote's  "Plato"  and 
the  "Other  Companions  of  Socrates"  is  a  very  learned  and  valu- 
able work  by  a  somewhat  unsympathetic  critic.  Much  less  pon- 
derous than  these  are  two  volumes  of  the  Golden  Treasury  series, 
one  containing  the  "Republic,"  the  other  the  four  dialogues  de- 
scriptive of  Socrates'  trial,  imprisonment,  and  death.  Even  more 
readable  are  the  little  volumes  of  selections  from  Plato,  published 
by  Scribner,  "A  Day  in  Athens  with  Socrates,"  "Talks  with 
Athenian  Youths,"  etc. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

DEMOSTHENES  ON  THE  CROWN 

An  Ideal  oj  Civic  Patriotism. 

Athens  never  regained  the  political  supremacy  upheld 
by  Pericles  in  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century  B.C.,  and 
lost,  at  its  close,  in  the  Peloponnesian  war.  (431-404  B.C.) 
Yet  in  the  central  decades  of  the  fourth  century  she  was 
stronger  than  any  other  one  of  the  Hellenic  cities,  and 
became  the  leader  of  a  forlorn  hope  against  the  semi- 
barbarous  kingdom  of  Macedonia.  The  autocratic  power, 
tireless  energy,  and  unscrupulous  craft  of  King  Philip 
(360-336  B.C.)  easily  baffled,  and  finally  crushed,  the 
disunited,  peace-loving,  mercantile  cities  of  the  peninsula. 
Yet  the  eloquence  of  Demosthenes,  still  preserved  in  a  long 
series  of  carefully  polished  speeches,  has  made  him  even 
more  famous  than  his  victorious  opponent.  He  utters,  in 
words  that  glow  and  thrill  even  now,  the  purest  patriotism, 
the  most  unselfish  devotion  to  duty  and  honor. 

The  details  of  the  long  hopeless  struggle  can  no  longer 
be  of  vital  interest  to  us.  Indeed,  when  Demosthenes* 
masterpiece,  the  oration  on  the  Crown,  was  pronounced, 
the  last  hope  of  freedom  had  vanished,  and  Alexander, 
secure  of  Hellas*  submissiveness,  had  already  begun,  with 
the  army  which  his  father  Philip  had  prepared  and  trained, 
his  amazing  career  of  Asiatic  conquest. 

Ctesiphon,  a  friend  of  the  orator,  had  proposed  that  a 
golden  crown, — a  customary  honor, — be  presented  to  him 

237 


138  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

for  public  services  and  personal  sacrifices.  Demosthenes* 
lifelong  enemy  and  rival  ^schines,  who  had  probably 
accepted  bribes  from  Philip,  now  impeached  the  mover  for 
illegal  action.  Aside  from  minor  technicalities,  the  chief 
charge  was  that  the  whole  career  of  Demosthenes  had 
injured,  not  benefited,  the  Athenian  people.  So  the 
master,  while  nominally  defending  his  friend,  must  actu- 
ally review  in  full  his  own  public  life.  The  overwhelming 
power  of  Macedon  made  necessary  a  certain  degree  of 
caution  in  tone.  Even  his  warmest  admirers  had  to  con- 
fess that  Demosthenes'  policy  had  not  been  finally  success- 
ful. Under  these  circumstances,  the  brave  words  here 
uttered  may  be  regarded  as  the  last,  and  also  the  noblest, 
Athenian  utterance  of  democratic  sentiment. 

Translation 

As  I  am,  it  appears,  on  this  day  to  render  an  account 
both  of  my  private  life  and  of  my  pubhc  measures,  I  would 
fain,  in  the  outset,  call  the  gods  to  my  aid;  and  in  your 
presence  implore  them,  first,  that  the  good  will  which  I 
have  ever  cherished  toward  the  commonwealth  and  all  of 
you  may  be  fully  requited  to  me  on  the  present  trial ;  next, 
that  they  may  direct  you  to  such  a  decision  upon  this 
indictment,  as  will  conduce  to  your  common  honor,  and 
to  the  good  conscience  of  each  individual. 

The  conquests  which  Philip  had  got  and  held  before  I 
commenced  life  as  a  statesman  and  orator,  I  shall  pass 
over,  as  I  think  they  concern  not  me.  Those  that  he  was 
baffled  in  from  the  day  of  my  entering  such  duties,  I  will 
call  to  your  recollection,  and  render  an  account  of  them; 
premising  one  thing  only — Philip  started,  men  of  Athens, 
with  a  great  advantage.  It  happened  that  among  the 
Greeks — not  some  but  all  alike — there  sprang  up  a  crop 
of  traitors  and  venal  wretches,  such  as  in  the  memory  of 
man  had  never  been  before.     These  he  got  for  his  agents 


Demosthenes  on  the  Crown  139 

and  supporters:  the  Greeks,  already  ill  disposed  and 
unfriendly  to  each  other,  he  brought  into  a  still  worse 
state,  deceiving  this  people,  making  presents  to  that,  cor- 
rupting others  in  every  way;  and  he  split  them  into  many 
parties,  when  they  all  had  one  interest,  to  prevent  his 
aggrandisement.  While  the  Greeks  were  all  in  such  a 
condition, — in  ignorance  of  the  gathering  and  growing 
mischief — you  have  to  consider,  men  of  Athens,  what 
policy  and  measures  it  became  the  commonwealth  to 
adopt,  and  of  this  to  receive  a  reckoning  from  me;  for 
the  man  who  assumed  that  post  in  the  administration 
was  I. 

Ought  she,  ^schines,  to  have  cast  off  her  spirit  and 
dignity,  and  helped  to  acquire  for  Philip  the  dominion  of 
Greece,  and  extinguished  the  honors  and  rights  of  our 
ancestors?  Or,  if  she  did  not  this — which  would  indeed 
have  been  shameful — was  it  right  that  what  she  saw  would 
happen  if  unprevented,  and  was  for  a  long  time,  it  seems, 
aware  of,  she  should  suffer  to  come  to  pass? 

I  would  gladly  ask  the  severest  censurer  of  our  acts, 
with  what  party  he  would  have  wished  the  commonwealth 
to  side, — with  those  who  contributed  to  the  disgraces  and 
disasters  of  the  Greeks,  or  those  who  permitted  it  all  for 
the  hope  of  selfish  advantage?  But  many  of  them,  or 
rather  all,  would  have  fared  worse  than  ourselves.  If 
Philip  after  his  victory  had  immediately  marched  off  and 
kept  quiet,  without  molesting  any  either  of  his  own  allies 
or  the  Greeks  in  general,  still  they  that  opposed  not  his 
enterprises  would  have  merited  some  blame  and  reproach. 
But  when  he  has  stripped  all  alike  of  their  dignity,  their 
authority,  their  liberty — nay,  even  of  their  constitutions, 
where  he  was  able, — can  it  be  doubted  that  you  took  the 
most  glorious  course  in  pursuance  of  my  counsels? 

But  I  return  to  the  question — What  should  the  com- 
monwealth, ^schines,  have  done,  when  she  saw  Philip 
estabhshing  an  empire  and  dominion  over  Greece?  Or 
what  was  your  statesman  to  advise  and  move? — I,  a 
statesman  at  Athens? — for  this  is  most  material — I  who 


240  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

knew  that  from  the  earliest  time,  until  the  day  of  my  own 
mounting  the  platform,  our  country  had  ever  striven  for 
precedency,  and  honor,  and  renown,  and  had  expended 
more  blood  and  treasure  for  the  sake  of  glory  and  the 
general  weal  than  the  rest  of  Greece  had  expended  on 
their  several  interests?  who  saw  that  Phihp  himself,  with 
whom  we  were  contending,  had,  in  the  strife  for  power 
and  empire,  had  his  eye  cut  out,  his  collarbone  fractured, 
his  hand  and  leg  mutilated,*  and  was  ready  and  willing  to 
sacrifice  any  part  of  his  body  that  fortune  chose  to  take, 
provided  he  could  live  with  the  remainder  in  honor  and 
glory?  Hardly  will  any  one  venture  to  say  this — that  it 
became  a  man  bred  at  Pella,  then  an  obscure  and  incon- 
siderable place,  to  possess  such  an  inborn  magnanimity, 
as  to  aspire  to  the  mastery  of  Greece,  and  form  the  project 
in  his  mind,  whilst  you,  who  were  Athenians,  day  after 
day  in  speeches  and  in  dramas  reminded  of  the  virtue  of 
your  ancestors,  should  have  been  so  base,  as  of  your  own 
free  will  and  accord  to  surrender  to  Philip  the  liberty  of 
Greece.     No  one  will  say  this! 

The  only  course  then  that  remained  was  a  just  resist- 
ance to  all  his  attacks  upon  you.  Such  course  you  took 
from  the  beginning,  properly  and  becomingly;  and  I 
assisted  by  motions  and  counsels  during  the  period  of  my 
political  life — I  acknowledge  it.  But  what  should  I  have 
done?     I  put  this  question  to  you,  dismissing  all  else. 

I  ask — the  man  who  was  appropriating  to  himself  Euboea, 
and  making  it  a  fortress  against  Attica,  and  subjugating 
the  Hellespont,  and  besieging  Byzantium,  ^  and  destroy- 
ing some  of  the  Greek  cities,  restoring  exiles  to  others, — 
was  he,  by  all  these  proceedings,  committing  injustice, 
breaking  the  truce,  violating  the  peace,  or  not?  Was  it 
meet  that  any  of  the  Greeks  should  rise  up  to  prevent 
these  proceedings  or  not?  If  no,  if  Greece  should  have 
lain  passive  and  helpless,  whilst  Athenians  had  life  and 
being,  then  I  have  exceeded  my  duty  in  speaking  on  the 

» Philip,  a  soldier  from  boyhood,  had  been  often  wounded  in  battle. 
2 Later  known  as  Constantinople,  and  of  course  always  the  key  to  the 
Black  Sea. 


Demosthenes  on  the  Crown  241 

subject,  the  commonwealth  has  exceeded  her  duty  which 
followed  my  counsels,  I  admit  that  every  measure  has 
been  a  misdeed,  a  blunder  of  mine.  But  if  some  one 
ought  to  have  arisen,  to  prevent  these  things,  who  but 
the  Athenian  people  should  it  have  been?  Such  then  was 
the  policy  which  I  espoused. 

Hundreds  of  cases  which  I  could  mention .  I  pass  over 
— sea-fights,  land-marches,  campaigns,  both  in  ancient 
times  and  in  your  own,  all  of  which  the  commonwealth 
has  undertaken  for  the  freedom  and  safety  of  the  Greeks 
in  general.  Then,  having  observed  the  commonwealth 
engaging  in  contests  of  such  number  and  importance  for 
the  interests  of  others,  what  was  I  to  urge,  what  course 
to  recommend  her,  when  the  question  in  a  manner  con- 
cerned herself.? — To  revive  grudges,  I  suppose,  against 
people  who  wanted  help,  and  to  seek  pretences  for  aban- 
doning everything.  And  who  might  not  justly  have  killed 
me,  had  I  attempted  even  by  words  to  tarnish  any  of  the 
honors  of  Athens?  For  the  thing  itself,  I  am  certain,  you 
would  never  have  done.  Had  you  wished,  what  was  to 
hinder  you?  Any  lack  of  opportunity?  Had  you  not 
these  men  to  advise  it? 

Whilst  you  on  these  occasions  sat  mute  in  the  assem- 
bly, I  came  forward  and  spake.  However,  as  you  omitted 
then,  tell  us  now.  Say,  what  scheme  that  I  ought  to  have 
devised,  what  favorable  opportunity,  was  lost  to  the  state 
by  my  neglect?  What  alliance  was  there,  what  better 
plan,  to  which  I  should  have  directed  the  people?  But 
No!  The  past  is  with  all  the  world  given  up;  no  one 
even  proposes  to  deliberate  about  it:  the  future  it  is,  or 
the  present,  which  demands  the  action  of  a  counsellor. 
At  the  time,  as  it  appears,  there  were  dangers  impending, 
and  dangers  at  hand.  Mark  the  line  of  my  policy  at  that 
crisis;  do  not  rail  at  the  event.  The  end  of  all  things  is 
what  the  Deity  pleases:  it  is  his  Hne  of  policy  that  shows 
the  judgment  of  the  statesman.  Do  not  then  impute  it 
as  a  crime  to  me,  that  Philip  chanced  to  conquer  in  battle : 
that  issue  depended  not  on  me  but  on  God.     Prove  that 


242  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

I  adopted  not  all  measures  that  according  to  human  calcu- 
lation were  feasible,  that  I  did  not  honestly  and  diligently, 
and  with  exertions  beyond  my  strength,  carry  them  out, 
or  that  my  enterprises  were  not  honorable  and  worthy  of 
the  state,  and  necessary.  Show  me  this,  and  accuse  me 
as  soon  as  you  like.  But  if  the  hurricane  that  visited  us 
has  been  too  powerful,  not  for  us  only,  but  for  all  Greece 
beside,  what  is  the  fair  course?  As  if  a  merchant,  after 
taking  every  precaution,  and  furnishing  a  vessel  with 
everything  that  he  thought  would  ensure  her  safety, 
because  afterwards  he  met  with  a  storm,  and  his  tackle 
was  strained,  or  broken  to  pieces,  should  be  charged  with 
the  shipwreck!  **Well,  but  I  was  not  the  pilot,"  he 
might  say,  just  as  I  was  not  the  general.  **  Fortune  was 
not  under  my  control:  all  was  under  hers." 

If  the  future  was  revealed  to  you,  ^schines,  alone, 
when  the  state  was  deliberating  on  these  proceedings,  you 
ought  to  have  forewarned  us  at  the  time.  If  you  did  not 
foresee  it  you  are  responsible  for  the  same  ignorance  as 
the  rest.  Why  then  do  you  accuse  me  in  this  rather  than 
I  you?  A  better  citizen  have  I  been  than  you,  inasmuch 
as  I  gave  myself  up  to  what  seemed  for  the  general  good, 
not  shrinking  from  any  personal  danger,  nor  taking  thought 
of  any,  whilst  you  neither  suggested  better  measures,  nor 
lent  any  aid  in  the  prosecuting  of  mine. 

But  since  he  insists  so  strongly  on  the  result,  I  will 
even  assert  something  of  a  paradox:  and  I  beg  and  pray 
of  you  not  to  marvel  at  its  boldness,  but  kindly  to  consider 
what  I  say.  If  then  the  results  had  been  foreknown  to 
all,  if  all  had  foreseen  them,  and  you,  ^schines,  had  fore- 
told them  and  protested  with  clamor  and  outcry, — you 
that  never  opened  your  mouth — not  even  then  should  the 
Commonwealth  have  abandoned  her  designs,  if  she  had 
any  regard  for  glory,  or  ancestry,  or  futurity.  As  it  is, 
she  appears  to  have  failed  in  her  enterprise,  a  thing  to 
which  all  mankind  are  hable,  if  the  Deity  so  wills  it :  but 
then,  claiming  precedency  over  others,  and  afterwards 
abandoning  her  pretensions,  she  would  have  incurred  the 


Demosthenes  on  the  Crown  243 

charge  of  betraying  all  to  Philip.  Why,  had  we  resigned 
without  a  struggle  that  which  our  ancestors  encountered 
every  danger  to  win,  who  would  not  have  spit  upon  you? 

With  what  eyes,  I  pray,  should  we  have  beheld  stran- 
gers visiting  the  city,  if  the  result  had  been  what  it  is,  and 
Philip  had  been  chosen  leader  and  lord  of  all,  but  other 
people,  without  us,  had  made  the  struggle  to  prevent  it; 
especially  when  in  former  times  our  country  had  never 
preferred  an  ignominious  security  to  the  battle  for  honor? 
For  what  Grecian  or  what  barbarian  is  ignorant,  that  by 
the  Thebans,  or  by  the  Lacedaemonians  who  were  in 
might  before  them,^  or  by  the  Persian  king,  permission 
would  thankfully  and  gladly  have  been  given  to  our  Com- 
monwealth, to  take  what  she  pleased  and  hold  her  own, 
provided  she  would  accept  foreign  law  and  let  another 
power  command  in  Greece?  But,  as  it  seems,  to  the 
Athenians  of  that  day  such  conduct  could  not  have  been 
national,  or  natural,  or  endurable:  none  could  at  any 
period  of  time  persuade  the  commonwealth  to  attach  her- 
self in  secure  subjection  to  the  powerful  and  unjust: 
through  every  age  has  she  persevered  in  the  perilous 
struggle  for  precedency  and  honor  and  glory. 

And  this  you  esteem  so  noble,  and  congenial  to  your 
principles,  that  among  your  ancestors  you  honor  most 
those  who  acted  in  such  a  spirit;  and  with  reason.  For 
who  would  not  admire  the  virtue  of  those  men,  who  reso- 
lutely embarked  in  their  galleys,  leaving  country  and  home, 
rather  than  receive  foreign  laws,  choosing  Themistocles 
who  gave  such  council  for  their  general,  and  stoning 
Kyrsilus  to  death  who  advised  submission  to  the  terms 
imposed — nor  him  only,  but  your  wives  also  stoning  his 
wife?  Yes;  the  Athenians  of  that  day  looked  not  for  an 
orator  or  a  general,  who  might  help  them  to  a  pleasant 

1  The  Athenians  considered  themselves  'the  leading  state  oi  Greece  from 
the  end  of  the  war  against  Xerxes,  478  B.  C,  to  their  decisive  defeat  by  Sparta 
at  the  close  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  Then  Sparta  led  until  the  great 
Theban  Epaminondas  brought  his  city  into  the  leadership.  After  his 'career 
(371-362  B.C.)  Thebes  rapidly  declined,  and  Philip's  reign  (360-336)  saw  Mace- 
donia establish  herself  as  complete  master  of  Greece.  The  decisive  victory  of 
Philip,  very  often  alluded  to  by  Demosthenes,  was  won  at  Chaeronea,  against 
the  united  Athenians  and  Thebans,  in  338  B.C. 


244  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

servitude:  they  scorned  to  live,  if  it  could  not  be  with 
freedom.  For  each  of  them  considered,  that  he  was  not 
born  to  his  father  or  mother  only,  but  also  to  his  country. 
What  is  the  difference.?  He  that  thinks  himself  born  for 
his  parents  only,  waits  for  his  appointed  or  natural  end: 
he  that  thinks  himself  born  for  his  country  also  will  sooner 
perish  than  behold  her  in  slavery,  and  will  regard  the 
insults  and  indignities  which  must  be  borne  in  a  common- 
wealth enslaved,  as  more  terrible  than  death. 

Had  I  attempted  to  say,  that  I  instructed  you  in  senti- 
ments worthy  of  your  ancestors,  there  is  not  a  man  who 
would  not  justly  rebuke  me.  What  I  declare  is  that  such 
principles  are  your  own;  I  show  that  before  my  time  such 
was  the  spirit  of  the  commonwealth;  though  certainly  in 
the  execution  of  the  particular  measures  I  claim  a  share 
also  for  myself.  The  prosecutor,  arraigning  the  whole 
proceedings,  and  embittering  you  against  me  as  the  cause 
of  our  alarms  and  dangers,  in  his  eagerness  to  deprive  me 
of  honor  for  the  moment,  robs  you  of  the  eulogies  that 
should  endure  forever.  For  should  you,  under  a  disbelief 
in  the  wisdom  of  my  policy  convict  the  defendant,  you 
will  appear  to  have  done  wrong,  not  to  have  suffered  what 
befell  you  by  the  cruelty  of  fortune.  But  never,  never 
can  you  have  done  wrong,  O  Athenians,  in  undertaking 
the  battle  for  the  freedom  and  safety  of  all !  I  swear  it 
by  your  forefathers — those  that  met  the  peril  at  Marathon, 
those  that  took  the  field  at  Plataea,  those  in  the  sea-fight 
at  Salamis,  and  those  at  Artemisium,*  and  many  other 
brave  men  who  repose  in  the  public  monuments,  all  of 
whom  alike,  as  being  worthy  of  the  same  honor,  the  coun- 
try buried,  ^schines,  not  only  the  successful  or  victorious  I 
Justly !  For  the  duty  of  brave  men  had  been  done  by  all : 
their  fortune  has  been  such  as  the  Deity  assigned  to  each. 

Many  great  and  glorious  enterprises  has  the  common- 
wealth, ^schines,  undertaken  and  succeeded  in  through 
me;  and  she  did  not  forget  them.     Here  is  the  proof. 

1  Battles  of  the  Persian  wars 


Demosthenes  on  the  Crown  245 

On  the  election  of  a  person  to  speak  the  funeral  oration 
immediately  after  the  event,  you  were  proposed,  but  the 
people  would  not  have  you,  notwithstanding  your  fine 
voice,  nor  any  other  of  your  party — but  me.  And  when 
you  came  forward  in  a  brutal  and  shameful  manner,  and 
urged  the  same  accusations  against  me  which  you  now  do, 
they  elected  me  all  the  more.  The  reason— you  are  not 
ignorant  of  it,  yet  I  will  tell  you.  The  Athenians  knew 
as  well  the  loyalty  and  zeal  with  which  I  conducted  their 
affairs,  as  the  dishonesty  of  you  and  your  party.  They 
thought  it  right  also,  that  the  person  who  was  to  speak  in 
honor  of  the  fallen  and  celebrate  their  valor,  should  not 
with  his  voice  act  the  mourner  of  their  fate,  but  that  he 
should  lament  over  them  with  his  heart. 

Nor,  while  the  people  felt  thus,  did  the  fathers  and 
brothers  of  the  deceased,  who  were  chosen  by  the  people 
to  perform  their  obsequies,  feel  differently.  For,  having 
to  order  the  funeral  banquet,  according  to  custom,  at  the 
house  of  the  nearest  relative  of  the  deceased,  they  ordered 
it  at  mine.  And  with  reason:  because,  though  each  to 
his  own  was  nearer  of  kin  than  I,  none  was  so  near  to 
them  all  collectively.  He  that  had  the  deepest  interest  in 
their  safety  and  success,  had  upon  their  mournful  disaster 
the  largest  share  of  sorrow  for  them  all. 

It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  Demosthenes  completely 
overcame  the  timidity  felt  by  his  countrymen  toward  the 
successful  Macedonians,  ^schines,  failing  to  carry  even 
a  fourth  of  the  jury,  incurred  a  heavy  fine  and  lost  the 
right  to  bring  a  suit  again.  In  his  mortification  he  went 
into  voluntary  exile. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 
Professor  Butcher's  "Demosthenes,"  in  Classical  Writers,  is 
of  course  a  masterly  little  monograph.  The  translation  of  the 
orations,  five  volumes,  by  Kennedy  in  the  Bohn  Classical  Library, 
is  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  classical  scholarship  in  the  English 
language. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

SICILIAN  IDYLLS  OF  THEOCRITUS 
The  Poetry  oj  Rustic  Lije. 

Perhaps  the  right  of  Theocritus  to  any  place  among 
ideaHsts  may  be  questioned.  His  gentle  shepherds,  and 
other  peasants,  feel  no  such  mystical  bond  of  sympathy, 
uniting  man  with  outward  nature,  as  a  Wordsworth,  or  an 
Emerson,  is  constantly  striving  to  express.  And  yet,  the 
simple  delight  in  rustic  life,  the  music  of  woods  and 
streams,  has  never  found  happier  expression.  A  genial 
wit,  a  kindly  humane  feeling,  a  healthy  love  of  life,  all 
contribute  to  his  unique  charm.  More  even  than  with 
most  poets,  that  charm  vanishes  when  his  ideas  are  uttered 
in  an  alien  and  less  melodious  language.  Yet  his  true 
lovers  can  hardly  desist  from  the  attempt  to  echo  his 
strains,  and  certainly  such  a  volume  as  this  would  be  quite 
incomplete,  if  the  sweetest  of  Hellenic  poets  were  wholly 
absent.  However,  in  his  idylls  or  pastorals,  the  part  is 
often  more  than  the  whole,  and  he  may  perhaps  be  fairly 
represented  here  by  a  handful  of  brief  versions  from  vari- 
ous hands. 

Of  Theocritus'  life  very  little  is  accurately  known,  but 
he  lived  and  wrote  during  the  fourth  century  B.C.,  in  his 
native  Sicily,  in  the  little  isle  of  Cos, — and  at  the  luxuri- 
ous Alexandrian  court  of  Ptolemy,  king  of  Egypt.  Like 
Bums,  he  is  most  enjoyable  in  his  simplest  utterances,  in 
the  broad  Doric  dialect  of  his  island  birthplace. 

246 


Sicilian  Idylls  of  Theocritus  247 

In  the  first  idyll  occurs  the  beautiful  description  of  a 
carven  bowl  offered  as  a  reward  for  rustic  song.  It  has 
evidently  three  chief  groups  of  figures  embossed  in  low 
relief  on  its  outer  sides. 

IDYLL  I 

Thyrsis 
Sweet  are  the  whispers  of  yon  pine  that  makes 
Low  music  o'er  the  spring,  and,  Goatherd,  sweet 
Thy  piping:  second  thou  to  Pan  alone. 

Goatherd 
Shepherd,  thy  lay  is  as  the  noise  of  streams, 
Falling  and  falling  aye  from  yon  tall  crag. 

Thyrsis 
Pray,  by  the  nymphs,  pray.  Goatherd,  seat  thee  here 
Against  this  hill-slope  in  the  tamarisk  shade. 
And  pipe  me  somewhat,  while  I  guard  thy  goats. 

Goatherd 
There,  where  the  oaks  are,  and  the  shepherd's  seat, 
Sing  as  thou  sangst  erewhile. 

I'll  give  thee,  first, 
To  milk,  ay  thrice,  a  goat — she  suckles  twins. 
Yet  ne'ertheless  can  fill  two  milk  pails  full; — 
Next,  a  deep  drinking-cup,  with  sweet  wax  scoured. 
Two-handled,  newly-carven,  smacking  yet 
O'  the  chisel.     Ivy  reaches  up  and  chmbs 
About  its  lip,  gilt  here  and  there  with  sprays 
Of  woodbine,  that  enwreathed  about  it  flaunts 
Her  saffron  fruitage. 

Framed  therein  appears 
A  damsel  ('tis  a  miracle  of  art) 
In  robe  and  snood:  and  suitors  at  her  side. 
With  locks  fair-flowing,  on  her  right  and  left 
Battle  with  words  that  fail  to  reach  her  heart. 


248  Ideals  In  Greek  Literature 

She,  laughing,  glances  now  on  this,  flings  now 
Her  chance  regards  on  that:  they,  all  for  love 
Wearied  and  eye-swoln,  find  their  labor  lost. 

Carven  elsewhere  an  ancient  fisher  stands 
On  the  rough  rocks;  thereto  the  old  man  with  pains 
Drags  his  great  casting-net,  as  one  that  toils 
Full  stoutly:  every  fibre  of  his  frame 
Seems  fishing;  so  about  the  greybeard's  neck 
(In  might  a  youngster  yet)  the  sinews  swell. 

Hard  by  that  wave-beat  sire  a  vineyard  bends 
Beneath  its  graceful  load  of  burnished  grapes; 
A  boy  sits  on  the  rude  fence  watching  them. 
Near  him  two  foxes;  down  the  rows  of  grapes 
One  ranging  steals  the  ripest;  one  assails 
With  wiles  the  poor  lad's  scrip,  to  leave  him  soon 
Stranded  and  supperless.     He  plaits  meanwhile 
With  ears  of  com  a  right  fine  cricket  trap, 
And  fits  it  on  a  rush :  for  vines,  for  scrip 
Little  he  cares,  enamoured  of  his  toy. 

The  cup  is  hung  all  round  with  lissome  briar. 
A  goat  it  cost  me,  and  a  great  white  cheese. 
Ne'er  yet  my  lips  came  near  it,  virgin  still 
It  stands.     And  welcome  to  such  boon  art  thou. 
If  for  my  sake  thou'lt  sing  that  lay  of  lays. 
I  jest  not:  up,  lad,  sing:  no  songs  thou'lt  own 
In  the  dim  land  where  all  things  are  forgot. 

— Calveriys  translation. 

In  the  tenth  Idyll  is  inserted  a  reapers'  chorus,  which 
may  well  have  been,  in  part  at  least,  a  real  folk-song, 
older  far  than  our  poet.  Like  most  of  Theocritus'  verse 
it  is  in  hexameters,  but  seems  to  demand  in  English  the 
more  familiar  ballad-metre.  The  division  into  couplets, 
here  indicated,  is  no  less  marked  in  the  Greek. 

Mowers'  Chorus 
Demeter,  Giver  of  the  fruit,  Bestower  of  the  grain. 
Easy  and  rich  the  harvest  make,  our  labor  not  in  vain! 


Sicilian  Idylls  of  Theocritus  249 

Now,  binders,  tightly  bind  the  sheaves,  lest  they  that  pass 

may  say 
"  'Twas  men  of  straw  that  labored  here,  and  wasted  was 

their  pay." 

Toward  the  North  wind  let  the  swath  we  cut, — or  else  the 

West,— 
Lie  as  it  falls,  for  so,  'tis  said,  the  grain  will  ripen  best. 

Ye  mowers,  when  the  lark  awakes  our  labor  is  begun. 
Nor  ends  until  he  hies  to  rest:  but  noontide,  heat  we  shun. 

The  folk  that  tread  the  threshing-floor  at  noon  may  take 

no  rest: 
For  then  it  is  the  chaff  from  out  the  wheat  is  parted  best. 

The  frog,  lads,  hath  a  merry  life,  for  never  need  he  care 
If  one  shall  come  to  fetch  his  dram:  he  still  hath  drink  to 
spare. 

More  carefully  the  lentils  boil,  thou  steward  full  of  greed, 
And  do  not  slit  thy  fingers  while  thou'rt  splitting  cummin 
seed. 

In  the  seventh  Idyll  we  have  a  sketch  of  the  poet  him- 
self, under  the  name  of  Simichidas  (Snub-nose).  Walk- 
ing with  two  friends  to  the  harvest  festival  of  Demeter, 
the  Grain-giver,  he  meets  a  youth  whose  name  Milton  has 
borrowed  for  the  most  famous  of  English  elegies.  The 
whole  poem  seems  an  actual  memory  of  youthful  days  in 
Cos,  whither  Theocritus  is  said  to  have  betaken  himself 
to  become  the  pupil  of  the  poet  Philetas. 

Poplar  and  elm 
Showed  aisles  of  pleasant  splendor,  greenly  roofed 
By  tufted  leaves.     Scarce  midway  were  we  now. 
When,  thanks  be  to  the  Muses,  there  drew  near 
A  wayfarer  from  Crete,  young  Lycidas. 
The  horn'd  herd  was  his  care;  a  glance  might  tell 


250  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

So  much:  for  every  inch  a  herdsman  he. 
Slung  o*er  his  shoulder  was  a  ruddy  hide 
Torn  from  a  he-goat,  shaggy,  tangle-haired, 
That  reeked  of  rennet  yet :  a  broad  belt  clasped 
The  patched  cloak  round  his  breast,  and  for  a  staff 
A  gnarled  wild  olive  bough  his  right  hand  bore. 
Soon  with  a  quiet  smile  he  spake — his  eye 
Twinkled,  and  laughter  sat  upon  his  lip: 

'*And  whither  ploddest  thou  thy  weary  way 
Beneath  the  noontide  sun,  Simichidas? 
For  now  the  lizard  sleeps  upon  the  wall. 
The  crested  lark  folds  now  his  wandering  wing. 
Dost  speed,  a  bidden  guest,  to  some  reveller's  board? 
Or  townward  to  the  treading  of  the  grape? 
For  lo!  recoiling  from  thy  hurrying  feet 
The  pavement  stones  ring  out  right  merrily.'* 

Then  I:  ** Friend  Lycidas,  men  say  that  none 
Of  haymakers  or  herdsmen  is  thy  match 
At  piping;  and  my  soul  is  glad  thereat. 
Yet  to  speak  sooth,  I  think  I  rival  thee. 
Now  look,  this  road  holds  holiday  to-day: 
For  banded  brethren  solemnize  a  feast 
To  richly-dight  Demeter,  thanking  her 
For  her  good  gifts :  since  with  no  grudging  hand 
Hath  the  boon  goddess  filled  the  wheaten  floors. 
So  come.     The  way,  the  day,  is  thine  as  mine: 
Try  we  our  woodcraft — each  may  learn  from  each. 
I  am,  as  thou,  a  clarion- voice  of  song; 
All  hail  me  chief  of  minstrels.     But  I  am  not. 
Heaven  knows,  o'er-credulous:  no,  I  scarce  can  yet 
(I  think)  out-vie  Philetas,   .... 

— Calverly. 

Last  we  may  set  the  dramatic  sketch  in  which  the  pair 
of  frivolous  Syracusan  ladies,  and  the  thronging  streets  of 
Ptolemy's  splendid  capital  Alexandria,  are  most  vividly 
deHneated. 


Sicilian  Idylls  of  Theocritus  251 

THE  FEAST  OF  ADONIS 

GoRGO     {At  her  friend's  door.) 
Praxinoe  within? 

EUNOfi 

Why,  Gorgo,  dear, 
How  late  you  are.     Yes,  she's  within. 

Praxinoe    {Appearing.) 
What,  no! 
And  so  you're  come  at  last.     A  seat  here,  Eunoe; 
And  set  a  cushion. 

EUNOE 

There  is  one. 

Praxinoe 

Sit  down. 

Gorgo 
Oh,  what  a  thing's  a  spirit.     Do  you  know, 
I've  scarcely  got  alive  to  you,  Praxinoe, 
There's  such  a  crowd — such  heaps  of  carriages. 
And  horses,  and  fine  soldiers,  all  full  dressed: 
And  then  you  live  such  an  immense  way  off! 

Praxinoe 
Why,  'twas  his  shabby  doing.     He  would  take 
This  hole  that  he  calls  house,  at  the  world's  end. 
'Twas  all  to  spite  me,  and  to  part  us  two. 

Gorgo.     {Speaking  lower.) 
Don't  talk  so  of  your  husband,  there's  a  dear. 
Before  the  little  one.     See  how  he  looks  at  you. 

Praxinoe.     {To  the  little  boy.) 
There,  don't  look  grave,  child;  cheer  up,  Zopy,  sweet; 
It  isn't  your  papa  we're  talking  of. 


252  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

GoRGO    (Aside.) 
He  thinks  it  is  though. 

Praxinoe 
(To  Gorgo.) 

Oh,  no — nice  papa! 
Well,  this  strange  body  once  (let  us  say  once 
And  then  he  won't  know  who  we're  telHng  of), 
Going  to  buy  some  washes  and  saltpetre. 
Comes  bringing  salt!  the  great  big  simpleton! 

Gorgo 
And  there's  my  precious  ninny,  Dioclede: 
He  gave  for  five  old  ragged  fleeces,  yesterday. 
Ten  drachmas!  for  mere  dirt!  trash  upon  trash! 
But  come;  put  on  your  things;  button  away. 
Or  we  shall  miss  the  show.     It's  the  king's  own: 
And  I  am  told  the  queen  has  made  of  it 
A  wonderful  fine  thing. 

Praxinoe 
Ay,  luck  has  luck. 
Well,  tell  us  all  about  it;  for  we  hear 
Nothing  in  this  vile  place. 

Gorgo 

We  haven't  time. 
Workers  can't  throw  away  their  holidays. 

Praxinoe 
Some  water,  Eunoe  and  then,  my  fine  one, 
To  take  your  rest  again.     Puss  loves  good  lying. 
Come;  move,  girl,  move;  some  water,  water  first. 
Look  how  she  brings  it!     Now,  then; — hold,  hold,  care- 
less ; 
Not  quite  so  fast;  you're  wetting  all  my  gown. 
There;  that'll  do.     Now,  please  the  gods,  I'm  washed. 
The  key  of  the  great  chest — where 's  that?     Go  fetch  it. 

(ExU  Eunoe.) 


Sicilian  Idylls  of  Theocritus  253 

GORGO 

Praxinoe,  that  gown  with  the  full  skirts 
Becomes  you  mightily.     What  did  it  cost  you? 

Praxinoe 
Oh,  don't  remind  me  of  it.     More  than  one 
Or  two  good  pounds,  besides  the  time  and  trouble. 

GORGO 

All  of  which  you  had  forgotten. 

Praxinoe 

Ah,  ha!     True; 
That's  good.     You're  quite  right. 

{Reenter  Eunoe.) 
Come;  my  cloak;  my  cloak; 
And  parasol.     There — help  it  on  now,  properly. 

{To  the  little  hoy.) 
Child,  child,  you  cannot  go.     The  horse  will  bite  it; 
The  Horrid  Woman's  coming.     Well,  well,  simpleton, 
Cry,  if  you  will;  but  you  must  not  get  lamed. 
Come,  Gorgo.    Phrygia,  take  the  child ;  and  play  with  him ; 
And  call  the  dog  indoors  and  lock  the  gate. 

{They  go  out.) 
Powers,  what  a  crowd!     How  shall  we  get  along? 
Why,  they're  like  ants!  countless!  innumerable! 
Well,  Ptolemy,  you've  done  fine  things,  that's  certain, 
Since  the  gods  took  your  father.     No  one  nowadays 
Does  harm  to  travellers  as  they  used  to  do, 
After  the  Egyptian  fashion,  lying  in  wait, — 
Masters  of  nothing  but  detestable  tricks; 
And  all  alike — a  set  of  cheats  and  brawlers. 
— Gorgo,  sweet  friend,  what  will  become  of  us? 
Here  are  the  king's  horse-guards!     Pray,  my  good  man, 
Don't  tread  upon  us  so.     See  the  bay  horse! 
Look  how  it  rears!     It's  like  a  great  mad  dog. 
How  you  stand,  Eunoe!     It  will  throw  him!     Certainly! 
How  lucky  that  I  left  the  child  at  home. 


254  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

GORGO 

Courage,  Praxinoe:  they  have  passed  us  now; 
They've  gone  into  the  courtyard. 

Praxinoe 

Good!     I  breathe  again. 
I  never  could  abide  in  all  my  life 
A  horse  and  a  cold  snake. 

GoRGO     (Addressing  an  old  woman.) 
From  court,  mother? 

Old  Woman 
Yes,  child. 

GORGO 

Pray,  is  it  easy  to  get  in? 

Old  Woman 
The  Greeks  got  into  Troy.     Everything's  done 
By  trying. 

(Exit  Old  Woman.) 

GORGO 

Bless  us!     How  she  bustles  off. 
Why,  the  old  woman's  quite  oracular. 
But  women  must  know  everything;  even  what  Juno 
Wore  on  her  wedding  day.     See  now,  Praxinoe, 
How  the  gate's  crowded 

Praxinoe 

Frightfully  indeed. 
Give  me  your  hand,  dear  Gorgo;  and  do  you 
Hold  fast  of  Eutychis's,  Eunoe. 
Don't  let  her  go;  don't  stir  an  inch;  and  so 
We'll  all  squeeze  in  together.     Stick  close  now. 
Oh  me!  oh  mel     My  veil's  torn  right  in  two! 
Do  take  care,  my  good  man,  and  mind  my  cloak. 


Sicilian  Idylls  of  Theocritus  255 

Man 
*Twas  not  my  fault,  but  I'll  take  care. 

Praxinoe 


They  drive  like  pigs! 


What  heaps! 

Man 
Courage,  old  girl!     All's  safe. 


Praxinoe 
Blessings  upon  you,  sir,  now  and  forever, 
For  taking  care  of  us.     A  good,  kind  soul. 
How  Eunoe  squeezes  us!     Do,  child,  make  way 
For  your  own  self.     There;  now,  we've  all  got  in. 
As  the  man  said  when  he  was  put  in  prison. 

GORGO 

Praxinoe,  do  look  there!     What  lovely  tapestry! 

How  fine  and  showy!     One  would  think  the  gods  did  it. 

Praxinoe 
Holy  Athene !     How  these  artists  work ! 
How  they  do  paint  their  pictures  from  the  life ! 
The  figures  stand  so  like  and  move  so  like! 
They're  quite  alive,  not  worked.     Well,  certainly, 
Man's  a  wise  creature. 

Second  Man 
Do  hold  your  tongue  there ;  Chatter,  chatter,  chatter. 
The  turtles  stun  one,  with  their  yawning  gabble. 

GORGO 

Hey-day!     Whence  comes  the  man?     What  is't  to  you 
If  we  do  chatter?     Speak  where  you've  a  right. 
You're  not  the  master  here.     And  as  for  that. 
Our  tongue's  Peloponnesiac ;  and  we  hope 
It's  lawful  for  the  Dorians  to  speak  Doric! 


2^6  Ideals  in  Greek  Literature 

Praxinoe 
We*ve  but  one  master,  by  the  Honey-sweet!  » 
And  don't  fear  you,  nor  all  your  empty  blows. 

GORGO 
Hush,  hush,  Praxinoe!     There's  the  Grecian  girl, 
A  most  amazing  creature,  going  to  sing 
About  Adonis;  she'll  sing  something  fine, 
I  warrant.     See  how  sweetly  she  prepares! 

{The  Song.) 

GORGO 

Well,  if  that's  not  a  clever  creature. 

Trust  me!     Lord!     What  a  quantity  of  things  she  knows! 

And  what  a  charming  voice !     'Tis  time  to  go  though,    . 

For  there's  my  husband  hasn't  had  his  dinner. 

And  you'd  best  come  across  him  when  he  wants  it! 

Good-bye,  Adonis,  darling,  come  again. 

— Leigh  Hunt. 
This  teeming  world-city,  where  men  of  all  nations 
jostle  each  other,  is  more  nearly  akin  to  the  Rome  of  the 
empire  than  to  the  comparatively  simple  Greek  life  ex- 
pressed in  the  best  Hellenic  literature  and  art.  That  Hfe 
is  already  but  a  fading  memory.  Athens  itself,  in  Theoc- 
ritus' poetry,  is  as  rarely  mentioned,  almost  as  remote,  as 
Homeric  Troy.     It  is  time  to  close  the  volume. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 
There  is  a  graceful  poetical  translation  of  Theocritus  by 
Calverly.  The  'prose  version  of  Lang  includes  the  works  of  the 
minor  pastoral  poets,  Bion  and  Moschus,  and  also  contains  a 
remarkably  vivid  and  sympathetic  introductory  essay.  B ion's 
''Lament  for  Adonis"  was  translated  by  Leigh  Hunt,  Moschos* 
"Dirge  for  Bion,"  by  Mrs.  Browning.  Other  versions  from  this 
group  of  poets  will  be  found  in  MiflBin's  "Echoes  of  Greek  Idyls," 
Sedgwick's  "Sicilian  Idyls,"  etc.  See  also  Appleton's  "Greek 
Poets." 

1 A  name  for  FArSefrfione. 


-1 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE  " 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL   BE  ASSESSED    FOR    FAILURE  TO    RETURN 
THIS    BOOK   ON    THE   DATE   DUE.    THE   PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY    AND    TO     $1.00    ON    THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

SEP    25  1936 

oor\/*¥*tio  1  %Mi 

^7\JGl  DZJ  fV 

REC'D  LD 

OCT  1 9  1352 

1 

^lAK  \  o  lybu  5&  . 

t 

REC  .l:-  •  n 

ikiAn  n      »r»o    ,, 

WftK^/     66 -11  AM 

LD  21-100m-8/34 

4  217935 


L^ir 


iT 


f 


: 

1 
j 

i 

HUrlliitsm 

;l^^^| 
'^^^1 

1 

i 

r 

1 

